


Percy Jackson Might be a Zombie

by TheIntelligentDesigner



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Also that's not how tags work, BAMF Annabeth Chase, Darkish Jason - Freeform, Drinking, Jason ends up being an idiot although he tries, Jason is in love with him, Jason tries to fix Percy, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Misuse of the Force, Not sorry?, Oops, Past Child Abuse, Percy acting weird, Percy has some messed up shit, Sexual Assault, That's Not How The Force Works, but she is a badass I guess, did not see that one coming, sometimes, super casual use of demigod powers because like why not, the Jason Leo bit was like one time and it just made sense when I wrote the scene sorry, the dub con is percico, ummm - Freeform, yeah it's smelly gabe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2020-02-10 23:38:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18670711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIntelligentDesigner/pseuds/TheIntelligentDesigner
Summary: In which Annabeth dumps Percy, Percy mopes around camp, Jason notices and decides to fix him. But when it turns out that the Percy is suffering from a lot more than just a breakup, Jason just keeps missing the signs.End game Jason/Percy but with a dollop of Percico along the way. From beginning, past Percy/Annabeth.Alternate title: "Tell me something about yourself that you've never told anyone before."





	1. The Zombie Apocalypse Starts at Camp Half Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This is about halfway done. Tried to make it a one-shot but it just kept getting longer and then more fragmented. Could finish and post as a one-shot I guess, but I think chapter breaks ended up making more sense, even though it's not all that long. Should be done soon! 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

Percy Jackson was a zombie.

To be fair, Jason had never personally met a zombie, but somehow he knew that if he ever did, it would look exactly like Percy Jackson did right now.

The shuffling gate instead of his usual self-assured walk, which was really more of a dickhead strut, screaming sleep deprivation (or rigor mortis, Jason supposed) with every forward lurch. 

The dark mop of hair mussed and ruffled to the nth degree, indicating that he had stopped looking in a mirror at least a week or two ago.

The sea-green eyes glazed over, unseeing and missing any spark of life, framed by dark shadows and bags that belonged in the arms of a desperate housewife who’d gone wild with her husband’s credit card.

The voice reduced to escaping in grunts and wheezes and heavy breathing, asking you to regret ever telling Percy Jackson to just shut the fuck up for five minutes.

Jason watched from the door of Cabin One as Percy made his way across camp, tracking him until he’d disappeared from sight, possibly on his way to the dining pavilion.

 _Hmm_. _Zombies eat brains, don’t they?_ Jason pondered the question for a few moments before shaking himself out of his own thoughts.

He wasn’t going to get to the bottom of this standing at the door of his cabin, following Percy’s every movement like a creepy stalker.

This would take a degree of finesse. He couldn’t just march up to the asshole and demand to know what was going on. He needed a plan. 

* * *

 Enter Annabeth Chase, a daughter of all plans’ mother. And, crucially, Percy Jackson’s girlfriend.

Jason found her watching a group of older campers overseeing training at the arena. He dimly noted that Clarisse La Rue was leading this session. Even after all this time, she’s one of the few demigods at Camp Half Blood that Jason could consistently recognize. Outside the Seven, of course.

And Drew.

Definitely needed to recognize someone immediately if you wanted to avoid them.

Jason briefly wondered why he kept finding himself lost in thought.

 _What an odd phrase_.

If you’re lost in thought, and you find yourself there, are you still lost? While you were wandering through the forest of your own mind, who exactly was the one looking for you? Who did the finding? Who got lost in the first place?

“Hi, Jason.”

This time, it was Annabeth pulling him from the labyrinthian twists and turns, the mess of his brain that sometimes felt blanketed in a thick fog.

 _A gift from Hera_ , Jason supposed.

Trying not to dwell on that godsforsaken mess, Jason blinked himself back to the present moment and met Annabeth’s gaze.

Her eyes always reminded Jason (and probably everyone else) of a cloudy sky. He’d looked into them long enough to decide on a specific kind of cloud. He felt entitled to name them. Son of the god of sky and the weather and all that.

_Undulatus asperatus._

It’s a brand new cloud, classified in the past year or so. In Latin, asperatus means roughened, agitated, and this particular type of cloud embodies the name. They’re dark and fearsome looking, thrusting portions of themselves down from the sky to create peaks and valleys, _undulating_ and wavelike.

All clouds are made of water, but this one looked the most like the sea. That's probably why she and Percy made such a great couple.

“Hey, Annabeth. How’s the training going?” Jason watched as she turned her head, surveying the arena. She gave Jason a short but proud nod.

“Clarisse is on top of it all as usual. The kids get better every day. I just hope they’re never going to need it the way we did.”

At that, a shadow passed over Annabeth’s face, and Jason glimpsed the pain, the trauma, and the darkness they had all passed through. He didn’t know if just anyone could recognize it, but she wasn't the only one staying awake long into the night, preferring to fall asleep exhausted in the hopes that their dreams would be peaceful.

Jason decided not to comment on it, instead returning to his goal, the whole reason he was even talking to her in the first place.

Not that he didn’t like Annabeth. She was great. A force to be reckoned with, really. He just didn’t really seek her out more than he needed to.

One of his older half-brothers had married a woman who went on to run the most powerful country on the face of the earth while he engaged in war with a son of Hades. She once wrote that “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

Wise words, perhaps, but Jason wasn’t willing to test them against the actual daughter of wisdom itself.

“Listen…Annabeth.” He wasn’t sure how to say this without offending her. There’s no way she hadn’t noticed Percy’s sudden change in behavior.

 _Ah fuck it_. What did he have to lose?

Jason made firm eye contact with the daughter of Athena, noting the shift in posture, arms crossing over her chest, weight shifting subtly to lean back.

“What’s going on with Percy?” He wasn’t sure how to interpret the way that Annabeth suddenly looked down, pulling one arm loose and looking at her nails with sudden interest.

“Hmm? I’m not sure what you mean. He seems fine to me.” Jason raised an eyebrow and inserted a hint of incredulity.

“Oh really? When’s the last time you saw him then?”

 _Aha!_ A flicker of concern, arms wrapping back around her chest, hugging herself close in a fog horn’s sounding of discomfort.

But Annabeth kept trying. “Jason, really, I’m sure he’s fine. You don’t need to worry –“

“Someone needs to worry, Annabeth,” Jason interrupted, trying to avoid sounding too harsh. If Annabeth’s flushing face was any indication, he’d failed miserably.

Annabeth mumbled something indistinguishable, chewing and swallowing her words before they could cross the few feet between them

“What was that?” Jason asked, gentler this time, coaxing her out of the shell that Annabeth was clearly building around herself in her mind.

She snapped, head whipping up to meet Jason’s eyes, and her next words were aggressive, defiant, almost a challenge.

“I dumped him, okay? I broke up with Percy. I ended it. I ended him.”

Jason was stunned. Nothing could have prepared him for that, of all things. He could handle the tiny shiver that ran up his spine at Annabeth’s confession, he could squeeze it back down the nerve endings to a point at the small of his back, and he could crush it into dust.

But he couldn’t help himself from asking, “why the hell did you do that?”

Annabeth simply shrunk, becoming smaller than Jason had ever seen her. Smaller than when she’d returned from Tartarus.

“I don’t love him anymore.” Her voice was a whisper, curling into itself like smoke from the end of a lit cigarette. “I’m not sure I ever really did.”

And Jason supposed that was answer enough. He turned and walked away, leaving Annabeth to her broken life, her broken heart, her broken eyes.

 _Undulatus asperatus_ clouds may look terrifying, even apocalyptic, but they rarely signal bad weather ahead.

They usually come _after_ the storm.


	2. Bonding Over a Bottle of Wine

Jason wasn’t sure why he was here, standing in front of Cabin Three, calming his nerves and raising a fist and –  _gods_ – knocking on Percy Jackson’s door.

He didn’t know what he’d do if/when Percy answered. He knew what he wanted to do, but the closer he’d come to the door, the more uncertain he’d become.

Doubt and anxiety rolling up from the earth, encasing his feet, trying to pin him to the ground so that he couldn’t step forward any further. Trying to halt him in time, in the breath between one moment and the next. 

Jason knew that he’d once been a Praetor, a leading figure who’d guided the latest incarnation of Roman civilization through more than one tough scrape. He knew that weight of responsibility, and as Pontifex Maximus, it finally rested comfortably on his shoulders. He knew himself. Mostly. And he was fine with what he knew.

And yet, here he was — waiting, shifting from foot to foot, looking anywhere but at the door in front of him, silently praying to whoever cared to listen to him anymore that Percy wouldn’t answer.

Standing there like a fool was fine. Most of the other campers were still at the dining pavilion, enjoying their dinner and too far away to even notice whether or not Jason just ended up embarrassing himself, knocking on the door of an empty cabin.

He heard a rustle of movement behind the door, and then a click as it cracked open, a face peeking out. Percy’s face.

_Of course_.

The only visible part was Percy’s head, a bird’s nest of hair and tired eyes. He was paler than usual, and when he finally spoke, his voice was rough and low, unused to the effort of forming words.

“Jason? What are you doing here?”

Jason hadn’t exactly prepared a speech (and _no_ , that little index card with bullet points definitely didn’t count), but he knew that pulling Percy out of this hole would require a firm but gentle hand, the promise of easy companionship, backed by an edge of certainty that Jason knew what Percy needed more than he himself did.

“Hi, Percy. Long time no see, bro.”

_There. Simple_. _Unassuming_.

“Umm. Yeah. Sorry, bro. I’ve just. Umm. I’ve been really tired. I’m sorry if you missed me at the arena. I’m obviously your best sparring partner.”

That attempt to mimic the confident Percy, the one who wasn’t hurting, was just fucking sad.

_It’s also the only armor he has left. Kill it. Kill it with kindness_.

“I missed you in more places than just the arena, Percy,” Jason delivered in a soft tone, daring the flicker in Percy’s eyes to ignite, to brighten his eyes once more.

It didn’t. Percy just nodded his head, somehow looking even more disappointed. He didn’t say anything.

So Jason continued his gambit. “Come spend time with me, Percy. I have a whole fun evening planned, just the two of us.”

Jason could tell immediately that Percy was going to reject him, come up with some stupid excuse to get out of it, to crawl back into bed and wallow in his own grief.

_Young love can really fuck you up_.

So Jason didn’t give Percy the chance, pushing forward, shoving the door aside with one hand and grabbing the other boy’s arm with the other, pulling him out into the light.

“Jason!” Percy’s shriek was scandalized, but it warmed Jason’s heart. So much emotion, so much life. Percy was still there, somewhere, even if that meant he started pulling back, resisting Jason’s grip.

“Nope. You get no say here. You’re coming with me, now. We’re gonna go back to my cabin and watch movies and play video games and get really drunk.” As he spoke, Jason just kept pulling, wrapping both arms around Percy’s wrist and tugging him forward.

The tug of war that ensued would’ve been comical if it wasn’t so loaded with import.

And hurt. And a small bit of anger.

“Jason, fuck off! Let me go!”

“No.”

“Jason, I swear to the gods that if you don’t let go – right fucking now – I’m going to –“

“You’ll what? Yell at me some more then go run back into your room, hiding from the world? From Annabeth?” Jason knew that was a risk, invoking Annabeth. But he also knew that Percy was like the sea.

His anger would come crashing over Jason like a wave, powerful and mighty, thrashing to and fro, threatening to drown him.

“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, asshole.”

_Hmm. Weaker than he’d hoped._

“You’re right, Percy,” Jason acknowledged, meeting Percy’s eyes, imagining his sincerity to be a laser, shooting unerringly between them, lodging itself into his friend’s troubled mind and anchoring him to the moment, to the connection between them.

“Why don’t you come tell me about it?”

Jason had to resist grinning as Percy slumped, shoulders hunched, head sinking into his chest, utterly defeated.

When he finally looked up to Jason, Percy seemed resigned to his fate. “Fine,” he said. “Just let me get dressed and I’ll –“

“Nope, not happening!” Jason rushed forward, reaching for Percy’s middle and scooping him up, throwing the boy over his shoulder, slamming Cabin Three’s door, and taking off for his own cabin.

“Put me down!!! You lumberjack fuck! Put me down what the fuck who do you think you are godsdamnit! Jason!!”

Jason giggled to himself, unable to contain the giddy elation that Percy’s indignant outcries provoked, and he just held his friend tighter, picking up speed. He reached his cabin before Percy could come up with anything more creative than “lumberjack fuck,” though he’d stopped trying to wriggle out of Jason’s grasp far too quickly for his comments to be interpreted all that seriously.

Jason set Percy down against the door, his hands sweeping over bare shoulders and oh.

_He’d wanted to get dressed._

Percy was wearing a pair of ratty looking gym shorts.

_And nothing else,_ Jason guessed. His chest and feet were bare, and the shorts were slung so low on those slim hips that they left absolutely nothing to Jason’s imagination, which had basically been in overdrive since the moment he’d met Percy Jackson in the first place.

It was moments like this that Jason thanked all of the deities – Roman, Greek, fucking Martian for all he cared – that Hera hadn’t taken away his self-control. It was the one thing the fog had left alone, and sometimes Jason thought it was the only thing he had left.

Like the moment his fingertips skipped over Percy’s shoulders, Jason realized there was a whole new body part he could find intoxicating.

If this had been a movie, Jason’s hands would’ve lingered, would’ve caressed. He would’ve stared. Maybe he would’ve blushed, gulping foolishly and letting his eyes pass over Percy’s chest, gaze soaking up the site of his muscled stomach, following the dark trail of hair down to the top of his shorts, mouth watering at the thought of it continuing down down down. To his –

_But no_.

This wasn’t a movie, and Jason surrendered to his iron control instead, letting it lead him, giving in to the knowledge that it would let him get out of this without embarrassing himself in any way shape or form.

His hands didn’t linger. They didn’t caress. His eyes didn’t stare, and they didn’t travel over Percy’s body.

Nope. The moment he felt Percy’s skin against his own, his hands were already moving on. His left moved of it’s own accord, engaged in the routine of grabbing a set of keys from his pocket, while the right crossed in front of Percy’s face, slapping the left side of his head and playfully shoving him out of the way.

Instead of indulging himself, Jason had set Percy down, moved him aside, and opened his cabin door in one fluid moment. Nobody present, nobody watching, _nobody_ could’ve seen anything different.

_A gift from Hera_.

* * *

Jason settled Percy down in front of the TV, a nest of blankets and pillows already prepared for them, with snacks and soda and all sorts of shit food laid out on a small table off to the side.

He watched as Percy wrapped a blanket around himself and looked around, purposefully avoiding the giant statue of Zeus and focusing instead on a shelf to the right of the television.

“You have Mario Kart? How? Isn’t this whole setup just attracting monsters to camp?” Percy was adorable when confused.

Jason smiled to himself as he started to set up the console, tossing an answer over his shoulder. “One word: Leo.”

He was sure that missing out on Percy’s ‘ohhhh’ face was regrettable, but there was no missing the accompanying snort of approval. 

“Of course. Our little firebug. So reliable.” Genuine affection glazed his words like honey, warm and indulgent and very sweet.

Jason finished setting up the game, grateful that he had remembered all the proper cable connections and swearing to himself that he was going to buy Leo a gigantic warehouse someday, a place where he could tinker with machines and invent useless contraptions to his heart’s content.

“Okay, Percy. You get started on some warm up rounds. I have one last thing,” Jason said as he stood up and headed to his wardrobe.

He dug through the contents, reaching for the back and pulling out a tote bag. He heard glass clink as he pulled it out and shuffled over to sit down on Percy’s other side.

Jason watched his friend work his way through his first race, coming in a respectable third after getting blue-shelled pretty early on. He had expected Percy to whine, but was surprised by the calm, easy expression on his face. He was just enjoying the game.

Once he crossed the finish line, Percy turned toward Jason, raising an expectant eyebrow.

“So, what’ve you got? I’m just dying to know.” And there was the famous quirky smirk that only Percy Jackson could make cute instead of smug.

Jason indulged him a little, playing up the dramatics as he reached into the bag and fished out two paper cups, a corkscrew, and a giant bottle of wine.

“Ta-da! I hope you like red. I’m Roman, in case you forgot. I also hope you know how to open one of these because when I was Praetor I never had to open a wine bottle. It just appeared, like magic,” and Jason was rambling because he couldn’t read Percy’s face.

It was apprehensive, hesitant, unsure. Then suddenly wiped clean.

“Umm. Sure. I’m an expert wine opener. Gimme that.” Jason handed over the corkscrew and the bottle without betraying his sudden lack of certainty, deciding that if Percy wanted to say something or take the lead, then he would.

He had the wine open in about five seconds, expertly cutting the foil, digging the tool into the cork, and jacking it up and out with a small pop.

Jason knew to tread carefully. “You’ve done this a lot.” It’s not a question, and he wasn’t surprised to see Percy’s face close off. His eyes darted to the side as he answered Jason.

“My umm. My stepdad preferred beer. But sometimes he would come home with one of these. Wine is quicker, he used to say.” Percy chuckled to himself bitterly, and Jason didn’t dare to interrupt.

“It definitely got him drunker quicker, I’ll give him that.”

Jason waited for Percy to look up, sensing that the other boy wasn’t quite finished. Sure enough, he continued.

“Either way –– beer or wine –– I opened and poured. And when he finally passed out, I went to bed.”

Jason considered his next words very carefully, torn between starting off with an apology or nixing it altogether.

_I’m sorry_.

To Jason, conversations that started like that, with someone else apologizing for something they had no control over…well… They started from the wrong place, making it that much harder to end up at the right place.

He thought back to every time he’d ever told someone about Beryl. It was hard enough to explain that he’d learned 99% of the story secondhand from Thalia (the sister who…loved him? Jason didn’t know).

Inevitably, the first words out of the other person’s mouth were “I’m sorry.” It didn’t make Jason seethe with rage or anything like that. He mostly just wanted to shrug, or better yet, wait in silence for the person to say something that was actually relevant – actually useful.

He pretended it was difficult to remember the time he’d told Percy that story. It was the first peaceful moment they’d had together after he’d heard the tale from Thalia herself. 

None of the moments they’d spent together, stargazing on the deck of the _Argo II_ , both of them neglecting their guard duties, had ever felt like the right time. The silence of their companionship, in the hazy and sorrowful aftermath of their possession by the Eidolons, was too pure.

At least, that’s how Jason had felt. 

No. It was, of course, by the sea. Right here at Camp Half Blood. Percy had found him as the sun was rising, shortly after they’d all returned.

Jason had heard him coming, the soft shifting of sand against bare feet, but he’d stayed quiet and let Percy sit down next to him.

He’d waited until the glow of dawn had peaked, bathing the world in gold, until Jason sensed those eyes on him, and had turned to meet them, inviting conversation.

In lieu of a greeting, Percy had asked, as if it were the most obvious question in the world, “Tell me something about yourself that you’ve never told anyone else.”

And so he did.

When he’d finished, Jason met Percy’s gaze with the most level expression he could muster, willing Percy to offer him something true in response. Something profound. He hadn’t thought he would get it, but he’d hoped.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Jason. I’m not sure I can really relate to any of those experiences. My mother loved me – _loves_ me – very much. She’s never let me doubt it, and she’s fought the hardest kinds of battles on my behalf.”

Percy had paused then, searching his face for some kind of hint, but at that point Jason was frozen, not knowing where this was going and beginning to suspect he wouldn’t like it once he'd figured it out.

But Percy had sighed, either not picking up on Jason’s mental state or resolving to push through to his point regardless.

“Here’s what I’m trying to say, I guess. I think that knowing how much my mother loves me, knowing that I never needed to doubt it, reveling in the fact that it was unconditional…I think having that helps me believe that other people in this world accept me for who I am, that they love me too. My friends. My new stepdad, Paul. Annabeth.” By the end, Percy had been looking down, twisting a piece of sea grass in one hand and tracing patterns into the sand with the other.

But then he’d looked up, capturing Jason’s full, undivided attention, somehow preventing him from looking away, even if he’d wanted to.

“That’s something you aren’t very good at, Jason. But I don’t think the world is so cruel, so unforgiving…that the only way we learn it is by having a mother who loves us the way a mother should.”

When Percy Jackson wanted to be serious, he could take it to a whole new level. Jason had felt somewhat intimidated, and he’d known that he was being bullied into listening, bullied into believing what the other was saying.

A soft smile had graced Percy’s features then, and dawn was mixed with sea green eyes, and the promise that spilled from his lips was inked in the golden light of sunrise.

“I just want you to know, Jason, that I accept you for who you are. I like you for who you are, who you might be. I knew, five minutes in, that you were going to become the greatest friend I’ll ever have. And I love you. For that, and for everything else.”

It had been the first and last time Percy had ever said that to Jason.

_I love you_.

At the time, it had filled Jason with warmth, and though he’d said nothing in return, he knew that Percy had left him on that beach confident that the message was both understood and deeply appreciated.

_And now it’s my turn to say exactly the right thing, exactly what he needs to hear_.

“We know better than anyone that parents can suck. We know how hard it can be to avoid repeating their mistakes. That’s the life of a demigod.”

Percy’s face remained impassive, his eyes firmly locked on the bottle in his hands.

“But we do have choices. You and me – we know that more than anyone too. Even if it’s just the smallest of things. Like whether we want to sit here and get drunk together or dump the wine down the drain and just play checkers instead.”

That got his attention, so Jason carried on, silently thanking whoever had coined that dumb phrase for the quick, upward twitch of Percy’s lips.

“You once told me you accept me for who I am. You know the feeling is mutual. I’m leaving the next step up to you because I know you – because I trust you.”

_Because I love you_. Jason decided to leave that part unsaid. No need to get overdramatic.

* * *

“Have you ever been drunk before?” Percy’s speech suffered from the smallest of slurs, but remained fairly coherent for someone who’d made their way through half a bottle of wine. 

Jason was staring at the ceiling of his cabin, watching the shifting patterns of the sky that – through some magic – were a permanent part of the view.

He vaguely knew that the other half of the bottle was gone too, and figured he was the one responsible for that.

Jason didn’t drink very frequently, especially after he’d encountered the tragedy that was his mother. But booze could be a comfortable blanket, at times, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that to himself.

“Yeah. What about you?” Jason turned slowly on his side toward Percy, resting on his elbow, curious to know what his friend would say.

“Yeah. Me too.” His voice was somewhat dull, as if saying something he knew he needed to say, to accept, but didn’t really want to put enough thought into to do so.

“The last time I drank, I…well. Shit I don’t want to tell you that yet,” and Percy rolled over to his side as well, apologies written on his face, begging Jason not to push.

“Okay. You can tell me whenever you want. Or not. Whatever you want, Percy.”

“Thanks, Jason.”

They both flopped onto their backs simultaneously, and the comfortable silence resumed.

Jason heard rustling and felt the minute vibrations of a body shifting its way toward him. As Percy’s head came to rest on the pillow Jason had claimed as his own, he let out a deep breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

The voice was close to his ear now, and Jason couldn’t bring himself to look, too afraid of what he’d do next.

“Tell me something about yourself that you’ve never told anyone else.”

It’s not as perfect as the first time he’d said it. It’s too clearly a bridge between his momentary discomfort at his own secrets and the resumption of their camaraderie.

But Jason didn’t mind, and in fact it gave him the strength to turn his head, now just inches from Percy’s own.

“I don’t remember everything from my past. You know that. But I recently remembered something very important about myself, and I know for a fact that nobody else knows. It’s why I broke up with Piper.”

“Tell me, Jason.” Sincerity, trust, openness. The only things he could see in that face.

“I remembered the moment I realized I was gay.”

Percy, gods bless him, let loose the smallest reaction Jason could possibly imagine.

A single raised eyebrow, followed by a soft smile.

“Thanks for telling me, Jason,” he breathed out. And then there was just one emotion, etched into every feature of that perfect face.

Acceptance.

Jason and Percy stared at each other for an indeterminate amount of time, until a bright gleam entered those sea-green eyes and Percy quickly rolled away, springing to his feet and staring down at Jason.

“So. You need me to go put a shirt on now?” Percy all but barked out, hands on his hips and struggling to contain his laughter.

_Percy is such a cocky shit_.

The pillow fight that followed was, in many ways, inevitable.


	3. Misery Breeds Zombies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is probably the longest chapter, but there is still so much more to explore here. 
> 
> The whole thing with Akhlys is definitely bad, but Jason is stupid if he thinks this is the only thing bothering Percy. He's complex and mutlidimensional, and there's a whole lot more pain and hurt coming. 
> 
> Also the thing with Nico. I'm contemplating a Nico POV for that chapter, because I want to keep us out of Percy's head. It would be way too easy to figure out what's going on otherwise. But that's like two "scenes" away so we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

After that, Percy started to slowly reemerge, readjusting to camp life.

He also started showering regularly again, much to Jason’s relief. Percy’s hair was hardly his most attractive feature, but when he put just a modicum of effort into his appearance, he was easily the most beautiful person Jason had ever seen.

Even if he was still hurting.

Jason wished he’d spent that first night asking more about why Percy was in so much pain.

He knew that breakups were hard, but he also knew Percy well enough to guess there was a lot more going on.

The fact that he’d almost immediately begun to rebuild his relationship with Annabeth, refashioning it into the friendship they’d had before they’d started dating, was another very strong hint.

Percy couldn’t hide his pain – not from Jason. And the occasional pangs of hurt that crossed his face when he was chatting with Annabeth were nothing compared to the haunted appearance of the person that Jason had called ‘Zombie Percy.’

And there were plenty of days Percy Jackson made it clear that he was still a zombie.

Some days, Jason would head to the arena, having agreed the night before at dinner or the beach or the lake to meet him there at noon or one or two.

And some days, Percy didn’t show up.

Jason stopped waiting after the first couple of times it happened. Percy would either be on time or he wouldn’t come at all, forcing Jason to wrestle with himself, torn between rushing to Cabin Three and giving Percy space.

Usually, he ended up hunting down Nico, who had opened up as his relationship with Will Solace marched steadily forward, but continued to have his own elusive days, when he hid in his cabin away from the world.

The most bizarre thing was when Percy and Nico were in the same place. Jason had thought they’d cleared the air between them. The first few weeks after the war, after Nico had confessed, they’d spent a lot of time together, breathing new life into their old friendship.

Jason had been proud of them both, encouraging them with bright smiles and swiftly changing the topic as needed, trying to smooth over any wounds that remained.

That had abruptly stopped weeks ago now. Right before Percy had turned into a zombie for the first time.

He didn’t yet understand the connection, but he’d put it on his list of Things Jason Grace Needs to Know About Percy Jackson in Order to Prevent a Zombie Apocalypse and Save the World.

It was a working title, but the list was growing.

For now, Jason tried to focus on the good days. The moments and minutes and hours he spent with Percy.

Sometimes they taught a sword fighting class to a group of young campers at the arena together. Sometimes they snuck lunch out of the pavilion and ate by the sea, breathing in time with the waves and each other. Sometimes they met up after hours, drinking or not, but nevertheless talking late into the early light of the morning.

Percy had even managed to drag him to the bottom of the lake.

They’d traded so many secrets, so many thoughts, that Jason wasn’t sure he had too much left to tell. It was as if he’d signed a contract to share his whole self with Percy.

The fine print appeared to be frustrating, and, to Jason, completely unacceptable. Percy kept the walls up around himself, never giving an inch, apparently afraid of the mile that might come after, of all the secrets he’d have to share with Jason if he let just one slip between his lips.

So it came as something of a surprise when Jason heard a knock on his door sometime after midnight.

Jason knew it was Percy. Who else would it be?

But today had been a zombie day. Percy was nowhere to be found, even when Jason had finally given in and gone looking for him at the Poseidon cabin. He’d heard no movement inside, and after a short while had simply given up, accepting that Percy just wasn’t going to respond.

But Jason wasn’t the type to feel resentful, so he slipped out of his bed and went to answer his door before the cleaning harpies managed to find and kill the other demigod.

(Although, Jason had never seen one, so he was pretty sure that was just a dumb myth the centaur had made up).

When he opened the door, moonlight spilled in, raining down to earth from the full moon. What greeted him was a silhouette, a statue carved out of darkness and placed against a backdrop of grass and trees and the lake off in the distance.

His eyes adjusted, and he realized that he was staring into the eyes of Percy Jackson, whose face was quickly turning an alarming shade of red.

Percy stared at some point in the center of Jason’s chest, and as he opened his mouth to speak, it was as if he couldn’t really get the words out.

“Hi. Umm. Hi, Jason.”

He usually just barged in, forgoing any sort of hello, making himself at home in Jason’s cabin, even flopping onto the bed. It was usually the same when it came to saying goodbye. It just didn’t happen all that often.

So Jason gave Percy his best puzzled expression, trying to set him at ease. “Hi to you too, Percy. Do you…are you going to just stand there or are you gonna come in?”

If possible, Percy turned a deeper red, and his face pinched into a most curious expression.

“Umm. Yeah. Just. Sorry it’s so late. And you’re just. I didn’t think you’d be. Umm…”

Percy’s voice trailed off, his eyes darting over Jason’s face, his chest, his…oh.

Jason looked down at himself, taking in his current state of undress, and realized that, once again, his self-control was truly his greatest strength.

This is the mess he would’ve become the first time he’d seen Percy shirtless. Even as understanding filled him, he knew there was something off about the whole equation. He just couldn’t figure out what.

But instead of standing there in his briefs, clearly making Percy uncomfortable, he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and tried to make light of it.

“Well it’s the middle of the night, babe. You’re lucky I was wearing anything at all. But yeah come in and I’ll just go slip into something less comfortable.”

Jason laughed for both of them as he turned away from the surreal vision of a fumbling, embarrassed Percy backlit by the moon, flicked on the overhead light, and rushed to grab a pair of sweats from his wardrobe.

When he’d put them on, Percy was still at the door of his cabin, looking a bit bewildered.

“Jason,” his voice was odd and tight. “Do you actually sleep naked?”

Fucking gods above. Percy Jackson was going to be the death of him.

Rolling his eyes, Jason marched forward, grabbing Percy by the arm and pulling him into the room, easing the door shut behind him.

“That’s for me to know and you to dream about, Percy. Now for fuck’s sake why are you here? It’s –“ Jason glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table. “It’s two in the morning and while every moment I spend with you brings me _utter joy_ , there is a time and place, Percy. Two am is never the time.”

Percy was quiet behind him as Jason grabbed a couple spare blankets and those massive pillows that made huddling together on the floor an actually enjoyable experience.

He paused abruptly, his words echoing back at him, and then he spun around, guilt rushing through him and an apology spilling out.

“Percy, I’m sorry I didn’t mean that I –“ and then Jason stopped, noticing that godsdamned expression.

Percy had been quiet, yes. Too quiet. In his silence, a troubling grin had stretched over his face. A shiteating grin. The smug smirk.

“You thought you were being sarcastic, but I know you actually meant every word. ‘Oh Percy, every moment in your presence brings me joy!’”

And that’s it he’s had enough.

Percy continued to “impersonate” Jason, going on about how much he needed him and couldn’t live without him, suggesting that they’d have to someday move in together just in case Jason died from a broken heart, and Jason just let him.

Although he didn’t even pause for breath, Percy did let Jason guide him to down to the floor, to his preferred pillow seat, nattering on and on the whole while.

Jason took his own seat, and Percy finally stopped for air. He must’ve caught the murderous glint in Jason’s eyes, because he just blew a raspberry at him and said, “Oh c’mon you know you love it. Okay fine I’ll stop. Thanks. For letting me in. I know it’s late.”

“I don’t actually care how late it is, bro. What’s up?”

Seemingly out of nowhere, Percy produced a fancy looking bottle of wine, whipping out a corkscrew – and since when did zombies have magic pockets sewn into the fabric of spacetime? – and opening it in a matter of seconds.

He poured a healthy portion of the deep red liquid into a glass – seriously this phenomenon seemed worth investigating – and offered it to Jason. “Have a drink with me?”

Jason reached for the glass, but as his fingers wrapped around the stem, he trapped Percy’s hand within his own. He caught Percy’s eyes as well. “I’ll never say no to a drink with you, Percy. But please tell me what’s wrong.”

“I will, Jason. Promise. Let’s just. Relax first.”

So they sat in companionable silence for a few moments, broken by Jason’s compliments to Percy for his good taste in wine and Percy’s convoluted tale about how he came by it, which somehow involved several empousai and at least one fake ID.

At some point, Percy must’ve realized that Jason wasn’t really listening. He leaned forward snapping a finger in Jason’s face and grabbing his very empty glass.

“Sorry,” Jason muttered. Percy gave him a critical glance as he poured another hefty glass, handing it back to Jason before sighing.

“No. I’m sorry. I guess we should talk business now, yeah?”

Jason let out a frustrated noise, closer to a growl than anything else, and rounded his gaze on Percy.

“Look, you don’t need an excuse to show up here at two in the morning to talk shit and drink obnoxiously expensive wine that you obviously stole from one of Mr. D’s old stashes.”  
Percy let out an indignant squeal. “I did not –“ but Jason wasn’t about to allow interruptions.

“Nope. Shut up. You stole it. Nice job, by the way. You may not have an eye for good wine but you certainly know who does. But that’s not the point. You’re here. I don’t care why. If you want to talk, talk. If you don’t, that’s okay too. You don’t owe me anything, Percy. Just being here is enough.”

And fuck if that last bit wasn’t a little too close to the truth.

_Oops._

Jason wouldn’t let himself crawl into a metaphorical hole and die, so he simply tried to maintain his neutral, nonjudgemental expression, practically daring Percy to derail the conversation by zooming in on that minor confession.

But Percy just looked guilty, his voice faltering as he replied. “I…I know that, Jason. I know I can always talk to you. That’s why I’m here. So let me try.”

Jason just nodded in response.

Percy set down his wine glass and started to pick at his nails, studying them with an intensity usually reserved for some great masterpiece of Western civilization.

Which, for all Jason knew, they could be. This was Percy Jackson, Hero of Olympus. Maybe studying the pattern of his bite marks would reveal a hitherto unknown secret of the universe. Jason resolved to check that some time, just in case.

He could see that Percy was gathering himself for the conversation ahead, but he knew the other boy would run out of patience before he figured out exactly how he wanted to say whatever he was going to share.

Sure enough, the first bit sounded like it had been dragged screaming out of its mother’s arms.

“I haven’t really been sleeping very well. Lately.” What an absolute shit place to start.

“Percy,” Jason intoned seriously. “I know – we all know – that you haven’t been sleeping well. I have a list of two hundred reasons Percy Jackson might actually be a zombie lying around here somewhere. We can go through it together if you think it could help.”

Percy’s “HA!” was sharp and clear, matching the stunned amusement in his eyes and smile.

“I don’t think I’m a zombie, Jace. But…” Percy trailed off. He looked at Jason for a long moment, searching for something. He must’ve found it, because he grabs the wine glass, throws back the remainder of his drink, and when he set it back down, Jason could see the fiery determination in Percy’s eyes.

His shoulders were squared back, set in the stance that said “I’m Percy Motherfucking Jackson.”

“Jason, I know I’m not a zombie. But sometimes I think I’m probably a monster.”

* * *

Jason blinked. If he wasn’t a zombie, what kind of monster could Percy possibly be? When he wasn’t shuffling around everywhere with dead eyes, he looked perfectly normal to Jason.

_Better than normal._

He needed Percy to keep talking, so he ignored the part of him that wanted to pin Percy to the wall, pour love into his soul, and tell him that he was the exact opposite of a monster.

Instead, he kept his expression as tamed as he could, and his voice didn’t quaver when he spoke.

“What makes you say that?” A bit more advanced than the cliché and how does that make you feel, but still pulled from that psychology 101 book Jason had bought the shortly after the war ended and PTSD announced itself as the latest specter haunting them.

Percy breathed out, his exhale a jet plane’s contrail, stretching from the source of his pain into the space between them.

“Thanks for not, uh, you know.” And Jason did know.

“You came here to talk, Percy. And I let you in because I wanted to listen,” Jason gently encouraged.

“I want you to listen. I think I need you to.” Percy took a deep breath before continuing.

“You’ve heard some of what happened in Tartarus. You can guess that a lot of it got pretty…dark.” Percy looked up again and Jason nodded his confirmation.

“Something happened to me down there. I’d like to say I forgot who I I’d been, but it’s more like I discovered who I really am. There was a -“

Percy’s breath hitched. He poured himself another glass of wine, hands shaking as he sipped it.

He swallowed before continuing. “We were tricked. Akhlys offered to take us to the Mansion of Night and give us the Death Mist to hide us from monsters. We’d been running, scared and alone and miserable and it was just the most gods fucking awful place in this entire universe.”

Another sip, this one turning into more of a gulp. Another swallow.

“She betrayed us, tried to kill us with poison and I could suddenly just feel it. I could feel the poison and I don’t even know how to describe it. Just swirling toxic shit. She wanted to hurt us. So I made her hurt instead.”

Jason had heard some of this story before. He knew they had faced the goddess of misery and poison, and he knew that Percy had uncovered his ability to control it much the same way he did water. But being rather familiar with dominion over an element or two himself, he’d never considered that controlling poison would make Percy feel so sick.

When he summoned lightning, Jason felt good. He felt powerful. He felt righteous. Sometimes it also turned him on like probably a bit too much. Seemed hard to use lightning in bed, no matter how kinky it got.

He was just glad the same thing didn’t happen when he flew. It’s a bird, it’s a plane, it’s…a guy with a boner.

But Jason pushed those thoughts away as quickly as they surfaced, dedicated to giving Percy his full and undivided attention. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying. It was a fight. Of course you hurt her. How else were you supposed to win?”

Percy’s chilling laugh gave Jason pause, and he ignored the urge to let it unnerve him.

“I didn’t just hurt her, Jason. I almost destroyed her. Once I started controlling the poison, I turned it on her, forcing it into her flesh and making her scream for mercy. I wanted to boil her fucking blood and replace it with poison and keep going until she just fucking liquefied.”

Percy’s voice rose and he was clearly losing control, hands shaking and for a moment Jason thought the glass in his hand might just shatter under so much pressure.

“I was so _angry_ , Jason. Everything slowed down and her cries of pain, her begging for me to stop just egged me on. Every scream made me want to hurt her more. And so I did.”

Jason has heard a lot of shit in life. He knows the dark corners of humanity. He knows the way that events outside of our control can lead to bad decisions that color our souls.

So he also knows the important question, which is what he asked next. “What made you stop?”

“Who says I did?” Percy replied, the call of the wild in his voice, the surefire sign of someone losing their grip on the present moment, losing their grip on reality. He was about to become fully immersed in the flashback if Jason wasn’t careful.

“Well, the other day, I went to sit down at the dining pavilion and learned the nymphs were fresh out of mashed potatoes but could still happily offer me a bowl of gravy. Misery seems to be alive and well, as far as I can tell.”

It didn’t elicit the laugh Jason had been hoping for, but it seemed to worm its way into Percy’s brain anyway, short-circuiting the downward spiral before the memory could claim him.

He sighed. “True enough, I suppose.” Another pause, but this one far shorter. “The only thing louder than that bitch’s screams were Annabeth’s tears. They say that when someone you love is crying, you can hear it no matter how far away you are.”

Jason didn’t really know if that was true. He’d never heard it before, and he thought maybe Percy had coined the phrase himself in the aftermath of this mess.

“I’ve never seen anyone look so afraid of me, Jason,” Percy continued, defeated. “I had a tortured goddess under my control, screaming in pain, but it was Annabeth who looked terrified of me.”

Jason wasn’t sure whether he should explain that the prospect of a demigod defeating a primordial being was extremely unlikely. Yeah, Percy was powerful – and without a doubt the best swordsman Jason had ever met – but Nico had better grasp of his powers and simply more raw _strength_ than either one of them.

And like, ya know. Demigod vs goddess. Daughter of Chaos, mom was the creator of the whole fucking universe. Smelled fishy.

Akhlys was the goddess of _misery_ , and what could bring more misery to Percy than his girlfriend being afraid of him and the horror of discovering the darkest side of yourself?

Sometimes a cigar is a cigar and sometimes it’s a massive dick being shoved up your ass when you least expect it.

“Percy…” Jason tried, but was immediately cut off by a raised hand.

“If it hadn’t been for Annabeth, I don’t think I would’ve stopped. I would’ve just kept going, kept hurting her. I loved it. I loved having her under my control and making her suffer. And the worst part is, if I could go back and do it all over again, I’d do the same fucking thing, every time. I don’t regret torturing her. I regret making Annabeth hate me.”

Jesus fucking Christ. _Percy Jackson is a fucking idiot._

“What exactly are you supposed to regret here? She _manipulated_ you, Percy. She’s the fucking goddess of misery. She _wanted_ you to do this. She knew it would kill you. She knew _exactly_ what she was doing!” Jason was almost hysterical at this point, gesturing frantically, emphasizing too many words in a row for one rant.

But Percy just laughed, maniacally. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t figured that out by now? That I’m some dumb fucking rock who can’t take a moment to figure out why I did what I did?”

And Jason honestly didn’t expect that response. If Percy knew, then why did it still bother him so much?

“What _difference_ does it make?” And now Percy was shouting. “Who gives a flying fuck? She may have gotten me exactly where she wanted, but it was _my_ choice to give in, _my_ choice to torture her, _my_ choice to enjoy it. Plus, it took me weeks to figure it out. In the moment, I just gave in…” Percy trailed off.

“I gave in to the monster inside me,” he finished, leaving Jason speechless. Once again, he’d underestimated Percy. Or misunderstood him. Misjudged him? Jason wasn’t sure. But at least now he had a better handle on what he was dealing with.

“We all have monsters inside us, Percy, and I’m not really sure why you’re telling me this or what you want me to say. Do you want Jason Grace, Praetor, Pontifex Maximus, he who can do no wrong? Or do you want me?”

Jason knew that far too many people thought of him as perfect, and maybe he felt a little bitter about it. _Maybe but also definitely_.

“I’m telling you this because you obviously want to know! You’ve been following me around for weeks like a schoolboy with a crush just digging and digging and begging me to tell you what’s wrong with me and now you know and you’ve got nothing to say? Fucking gods, Jason. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jason could count on one hand the number of times he had cried in front of another person. He just had to take his thumb and his index finger and form a big fat circle. He appreciated the value of some quiet tears or even dramatic sobbing behind closed doors – that particular catharsis was one of the greatest gifts from the gods, in his opinion – but the decision to share those moments with someone else wasn’t one to be made lightly.

He’d thought that maybe one day Percy would deserve his tears.

 _But not today_.

So instead of standing there stunned at Percy’s vicious, hateful outburst, letting his eyes water until one lonely tear drifted down his face (Jason thought it would start in his right eye – it was always more sensitive), he simply raised an eyebrow. Schooling himself the picture of indifference.

“A schoolboy with a crush.” At the flash of guilt that passed across Percy’s face, he held up one hand, cutting him off before he could try to walk it back. “No no, that’s fine. You’re right, I guess. I do have something to say to you, but I’m not sure you’re gonna like it.”

“Just say it,” Percy muttered, his voice bitter and resigned.

“Hurting people who hurt you feels good. Getting revenge feels good. Taking the upper hand in a fight and making your opponent suffer for their mistake, showing them why they shouldn’t have messed with you in the first place, feels good. I’m not sure if you knew that before you met Ahklys.”

Before Percy could interrupt, which he was clearly dying to do, Jason continued.

“Maybe you knew in the abstract, but this time you got a front row seat. The driver’s seat, even. And you know what, of course Annabeth was afraid. It’s always terrifying to watch someone stand on the edge of an abyss, encountering their own darkness, to wondering if they’re going to leap off the edge or not.”

Percy was silent now, staring in rapt attention, and Jason knew he had described the moment perfectly. He knew exactly how Percy had felt, because he’d been there before himself.

Demigods don’t get titles like slayer of the Trojan sea monster without understanding just how powerful they were and just what kind of destruction they were capable of unleashing on the world.

“You know why it’s so terrifying to see? It’s because you realize that the only thing standing between them and the awesome, destructive, malicious power of rage is a choice. They will either choose to step back or choose to jump. That’s it. There’s nothing you can do about it – it’s all up to them.”

Jason took a moment to collect himself for his last point. He looked into Percy’s eyes, really looked, trying to drive his message home.

“You made a choice, Percy. You chose to step back. You chose to stop. You chose not to give in. You even know why you did it. Annabeth’s fear. Her face, her opinion of you, your desire for her to love you. You did it for her. You might think that’s a bad reason, but in my opinion who the fuck cares? It doesn’t really matter why you stepped back, in terms of whether or not your choice was real. It was your choice, and you made it. You walked away. That doesn’t make you a good person. It doesn’t make you a hero. It makes you a demigod. It makes you someone who found out they could probably level a city if they wanted and chose not to. Half human, half god, and judging our own morality is a lot harder than the rest of the people down here or those up on Olympus.”

Having finished his point, Jason breathed out, leaning back as he let Percy take that in. He could see Percy thinking, could see his mind working it’s way through, and he wasn’t about to interrupt that thought process.

The silence stretched a long time before Percy finally spoke, the glazed look of someone deep in thought disappearing as he decided how to respond.

“Let’s say that you’re right. What am I going to do now? Annabeth dumped me. If she was the only thing holding me back, what happens the next time?”

 _I am surrounded by idiots_ , was Jason’s first thought. It was a fair enough question, but how was he supposed to know? He’d already pretty much exhausted his advice giving side today.

“I don’t know, Percy,” Jason sighed, trying not to sound annoyed. “Maybe you’ll think of everyone else who loves you. Your other friends. Your mom. But honestly I’m not sure. I believe you will though. I think you’ll always step back. But do you want to hear something actually hard?”

“Harder than this?” Percy asks in disbelief.

“Yes,” Jason said. “I know why Annabeth broke up with you, and it’s not why you think.”

“Oh really?” Percy’s voice turned nasty again. “Well go ahead then, let’s see it, from the great Jason Grace himself.”

Jason forced himself not to rise to the bait and went in for the kill instead. “You think she broke up with you because she couldn’t handle seeing you as a monster. That’s stupid, and you aren’t giving her enough credit. Annabeth broke up with you because she couldn’t handle being the only reason you didn’t actually become one.”

When he finished, Jason crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on his heels, watching as the truth finally sunk into Percy’s smaller than average brain. He probably shouldn’t have felt so satisfied at the turbulent, almost wild look in Percy’s eyes, but he reasoned that it was okay to be smug when the truth bomb you’d just dropped had hit its target with such overwhelming force.

But The Battle Hymn of the Republic playing in the background of his thoughts, his own personal soundtrack, was probably a bit gratuitous.

He was still surprised when the struggle in Percy’s expression came to a sudden end, and when the other boy flopped to floor, lying spread-eagle on his back, Jason was forced to contain his laughter.

Instead, he moved over to Percy’s side and laid down next to him, hands cushioning his head and ankles crossed.

“I take back every thing I said,” Percy said, turning to meet Jason’s gaze. “The great Jason Grace is, in fact, very great. And wise. And I promise never to doubt him again.”

Jason knew that Percy was still processing this, and that it would take a lot longer than five minutes for him to decide how he really felt about it, much less what he wanted to do or think going forward. So he decided this was enough, that it was time to stop pushing and let his friend think about this awhile longer.

“I love you too, bro,” Jason teased, and then was shocked by how his arms were suddenly full of Percy, arms moving up and down his sides and – shit – trying to tickle him.

“I knew it!!!! I knew you loved me!” Percy was absolutely _delighted_ , and the smug smirk once again made an appearance, this one reaching all the way to his eyes.

“Oh fuck off you asshole. What was that you just said about never doubting me?” Jason rolled his eyes, tone the definition of deadpan.

“Well you never said it before! You left me so heartbroken last time. There we were, sunrise on the beach, and I confess my desire to cement our bromance with three sacred words and –“

“Percy. Shut the fuck up, or I’m never saying it again.”

“Jason! No fair!” Percy whined. “Come on we’ve had a tough night, so many revelations, and you were so mean to me! My fragile heart can’t take any more insults.”

Jason just laughed, remembering how truly childish Percy could be sometimes. That side of him had disappeared since the war, and having to deal with it again was almost a blessing.

 _Almost_.

“Yes, yes, I know. It’s been a tough night. You’ve been through a lot. That’s why you’re going to stay here tonight. It’s cuddle time.” Jason was half-serious. He knew Percy needed some time to think, but he also knew that it was too late and they were too tipsy for any productive reflection. The suggestion to cuddle wasn’t serious, just a way to keep it light, to keep up the joking atmosphere that distanced the current moment from the serious conversation they’d just finished.

So he was surprised when Percy stilled on top of him, his smile turning soft and the exuberant, hysterical edge to his energy turning into something more content. His eyes caught a lazy gleam, and then every muscle in his body (which, due to their current position, Jason could feel intimately) gave out, like a dog who finally found a spot to lay in after circling and circling for far too long. He dropped his head onto Jason’s chest, and his voice was small and pleased.

“Okay. Cuddling sounds good. But not here. Carry me to bed, babe.”

Jason rolled his eyes, shoving Percy off him, ignoring the shocked outcry and standing up, brushing invisible dirt off his pants before extending his arm to Percy, who looked up from the floor indignantly.

“Rude! That was rude! You’re _rude_!” But then he took Jason’s hand and let himself be pulled up. “Fine okay you’re forgiven. But only if you cuddle me really well.”

Jason eyed him critically, before he grinned, a wolfish expression that would’ve made Lupa proud. And then he grabbed Percy, tossing him over his shoulder for the second time in as many months, enjoying the way he writhed and resisted and squealed.

When he made it the bed, he dumped the load in his arms and unceremoniously threw himself down on top of Percy, feeling mischievous and _alive_.

“Got you,” he breathed and didn’t care if he was giving himself away. This felt too good. Too right.

Percy breathed back. “Only because I let you. Now get off me. Lumberjack fuck.”

“Whiny bitch,” Jason shot back, tightening his grip on the boy beneath him.

“Schoolboy,” Percy let out, treading into dangerous territory with wild abandon, and Jason rolled off him, arranging himself comfortably before turning his head and meeting Percy’s gaze.

“Zombie,” he said quietly.

Percy’s response was measured, deliberate. “Faggot.”

They contemplated each other and words passed between them without sound, without thought, without effort. A low laugh started in Jason’s throat and, before he could stop it, burst into the space between them.

Percy joined him, and they laughed so long and so hysterically that Jason’s stomach hurt. When they finally stopped, Percy sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Jason watched as he went to turn off the light, and darkness enveloped the room. The full moon cast just a small amount of light into the room through the windows framing the door, but combined with the light from the starry sky floating above their heads, he could see Percy shedding his clothes as he returned.

He couldn’t find it in himself to look away, and when Percy sat on the edge of the bed, removing his socks, he let his eyes explore the broad shoulders and tried to calculate the ratio between them and Percy’s waist. He was pretty sure that if he could somehow trace the outline of the boy’s back, he’d end up with a perfectly formed, upside down V, which had suddenly become the most beautiful letter in the English language. Coming from someone who was dyslexic, finding any letter more beautiful than another was its own surprise. But, then again, this was Percy Jackson, who surprised just by existing in the first place.

He watched as Percy settled himself into bed, laying on his side, facing away from Jason and curling into himself slightly.

He prepared to roll over, knowing that if he kept staring he’d never get to sleep, but Percy’s voice, breaking through the darkness, stopped him.

“Hold me?” It was halfway between a question and a demand, and Jason couldn’t resist it. He scooched closer until he felt that gorgeous back against his chest, tentatively maneuvering one arm into the space between Percy’s neck and his pillow, the other one reaching around, under Percy’s arm, clutching his chest.

He felt it as Percy inched backward, rearranging the arm holding his middle, pressing his body as close to Jason’s as possible. Once he was satisfied, he let out a long sigh.

“Thanks, Jason.”

“Anytime.”

And as they drifted off to sleep, Jason let himself smile.

_Everything is going to be all right._


	4. The Morning After Sleeping with a Zombie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prelude into the next important conversation between Percy and Jason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to keep going with this, but also wanted to post something quickly. Sorry for the cliffhanger.

So many books and movies make it seem as if people can go to bed cuddled up to someone, sleep through the night, and then wake up in the exact same position the next day.

That's stupid and obviously fake, so Jason was not surprised in the least when he woke up the next morning flat on his stomach, head shoved between two pillows. One on top to keep out the light, the other on bottom. His arms were crossed under both, ensuring the perfect height and firmness for a comfortable night’s sleep. 

When he dug his head out, he saw that Percy was similarly positioned, though his pillow arrangement was subpar, far inferior to Jason’s masterful demonstration of the ancient art. 

He slipped out of bed, took care of some important business in the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and quietly padded back, trying his best not to disturb Percy as he crawled back under the covers. It was still pretty early, and he could use another hour or two of sleep. 

But he indulged himself in watching his obnoxiously beautiful – albeit supremely strange – bedfellow. When he reached his hand out to trace random patterns into the perfectly tanned skin of that muscled back, Percy snatched it, simultaneously letting Jason know that he was awake and, in a repeat of the night before, scooting backwards until his body was tight against Jason’s. 

Percy hugged the hand close, and let out a contented sigh. “Morning, babe.” Jason’s heart fluttered unfortunately at the chosen moniker, but he was thankful that his dick hadn’t twitched in time as well. 

It was bad enough being this close to Percy, wanting to lick every inch of his skin and watch him fall apart beneath him. He didn’t need cute pet names on top of it all. 

Before he knew what he was doing, he freed his hand from Percy’s embrace, grabbing his side roughly, pulling him over and onto his back. He rolled on top of his prey, seizing both arms and pinning them over the boy’s head. 

“Good morning, gorgeous,” he _purred_ , and he noticed the way Percy became utterly still, staring up at him with wide-open eyes, spreading his legs beneath Jason in what seemed like a practiced, automatic motion. For a brief moment, insecurity and fear sparked through his eyes, quickly replaced by determination, then calm acceptance. 

“You should wake me up like this every morning, Jace. Then bring me pancakes –– dyed blue if possible but I won’t complain if they aren’t.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “What if I just tear down the sky and bring you that instead? It’s the bluest thing out there and I’m sure my dad won’t mind. A fitting gift for my favorite person in the world.”

Percy’s face was caught somewhere between surprise and delight, a medley of both that left Jason breathless. 

“You’d do that for me? Bring me the sky?” 

He poked Percy’s nose. “I’d do anything for you.” 

Jason wasn’t an idiot. Percy may have recently been in a relationship with a girl, but there were very few straight dudes – even those as physically expressive as Percy – who would be caught dead in this position, half-naked under another, essentially half-naked, guy. 

If there was ever a time to push, a time to admit his feelings to Percy, it was now. 

“Well how about you stop crushing me so I can tell you something?” And whoosh, the air crashed out of Jason’s lungs as he moved as fast as he possibly could to extricate himself from the definitely _not_ interested boy beneath him. He was clear across the bed before either of them could blink.

“No no, not like that I mean jeez” Percy sighed, scrambling over, climbing on top of Jason, manhandling him into a reverse of their previous position. He wiggled around a bit, and Jason could feel their hips shifting against each other, painfully reminded that Percy was just wearing a pair of thin boxer briefs (and grateful he’d left his sweatpants on the night before). He could feel a knee nudging between his legs, spreading them farther apart until their upper bodies were pressed flush against one another. 

“You’re so annoying. I didn’t mean it like that. I actually really like being close to you. Like this. It’s…nice.” And then he reached up and brought his hand to Jason’s face in a sweeping caress, tracing a path from his forehead down the right side to deliver a gentle poke to his cheek, mirroring Jason’s earlier, playful touch. 

“But not for this one. I just need a tiny bit of space.” But instead of moving away or disentangling himself, he stayed exactly where he was, a soft smile creeping over his face, fond and satisfied. 

Jason soaked it all in, imagining his eyes to be rechargeable power cells that could take in all of the warmth radiating from Percy, wishing that he could store it away and draw on it long into the future, just in case Percy never looked at him like this again. 

As time slowed to a crawl, Jason wondered if now was the moment he should kiss him. He wondered if this was a moment he would regret, some time down the road, when he looked back at his younger days and cursed himself for all the times in which he could’ve should’ve would’ve done _more_ — given a second chance. 

He became too aware of his heart, pounding in his chest, such a stark contrast to the slow and steady beat of Percy’s, and he wondered if fast hearts belied a longer runway to action, if anxiety was at the core of his approach to life — so often called “thoughtful” by others — if it meant he would never be able to pounce on his desires with the determination and accuracy required. 

In the next moment, Percy seemed to prove his hypothesis. His heartbeat was unerring in its slow and rhythmic beat, but his movements were so quick, so decisive — and out of nowhere Jason felt the firm press of lips against his cheek, a fleeting peck or perhaps a promise of more, and then the absence of weight as Percy rolled off his chest, leaving a mark as if Jason’s entire body was made of memory foam, destined to yield itself _mold itself_ to his touch. 

Before Jason could even begin to comprehend what had just happened, Percy had already started speaking. 

“Our friendship is weird, Jason. We met because a god switched us, like some shitty episode of Wife Swap. Once we actually got to know each other — during a fucking war of all places — I’ll be honest with you. Never got what made us so similar. You’re everything I always wanted to be but nothing I’ve ever been.”

Jason was still speechless and was barely paying attention, but some part of him strained to listen. 

Percy was flat on his back, talking to the ceiling, hands clenched in fists at his side. “But regardless, you became the one person I knew would always understand me.” 

As Jason finally found the wherewithal to look over at him, Percy turned his head, looking straight into Jason’s eyes. “I’ve never trusted anyone as much as I trust you.” 

Trying not to choke on the excess of love in his heart, Jason replied, “I won’t lie. I’ve wanted you to say that from the moment we met.” 

Percy snorted in response. “You’re ridiculous like that. But trust me. You’ve earned it. So. I guess what I wanted to tell you is about something I mentioned weeks ago, the first night you dragged me out of my cabin and forced me to hang out with you.” 

Jason struggled not to roll his eyes. “Please...you came willingly and you know it.”

Percy brushed it off, completely dismissive. “Semantics. But seriously. Can we talk?” Without waiting for an answer, Percy continued. “I’ve been wanting to finish that thing I started to tell you the first night we hung out. It’s about Nico. I know you two are close...” 

Although a small kernel of concern began to grow somewhere below his chest and above his waist, Jason said, “That’s okay, Percy. You and I are a lot closer than him and me.” 

 _I’ve never wanted to kiss Nico_. 

But was that strictly true? The son of Hades was deadly, powerful, a force to be reckoned with, and absolutely positively fucking gorgeous. He’d recently cut his hair and that had really tipped Jason over the edge. Yeah the little dude could pull off the whole long hair angry emo thing, but he cleaned up _good_.

If he ever came across Nico naked, bent over, ass in the air…he would think about maybe…

Okay he would definitely 100% fuck him. 

But like, Will Solace was a thing, and Jason respected that too much. After watching Nico basically get slaughtered by Cupid, forced to admit his feelings and his orientation all in one go, he just wanted the other boy to be happy. No matter how cute and perfectly fuckable he was, Jason would never. 

 _Never_. 

Unless asked really – really – nicely. 

Eventually, Jason was pulled from his thoughts when Percy decided to continue. “Well, the last time I drank, I slept with Nico.” 

And that became the most abrupt reentry to the present moment of Jason’s entire life. 


	5. Lighting, Thunder, BOOM!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, another chapter. The first mentions of Percico, and the first hint that something bad happened between them. Fair warning – the Percico stuff is shit. It's a trigger for Percy. Read the general tags and you'll figure it out, just in case that's something that bothers you and you'd prefer not to read. 
> 
> The next chapter is going to include a very graphic sex scene, but none of the planned scenes are depictions of sexual assault in the most commonly understood way (I'll let you know if that changes, with triggers at the front of the chapter and updated tags). 
> 
> If you can infer anything from this chapter, you'll get that it's sexual assault nonetheless. And if you can't, Percy will help you understand why, I promise. 
> 
> He's gonna help Jason understand too, promise that as well.

The sun heats the earth and the sky above it. When the sun is high in the sky and the portion of the earth you’re standing on is tilted toward it, the air at ground level often gets hot much faster than the air above it. 

Heat rises, and the warm air goes with it, floating up high into the sky, leaving the water vapor it’s carrying with it, forming a cloud. The cloud grows and the air cools, and at the very top, ice begins to form.

The icy drops bump into each other, building up an electric charge the same way that shuffling across a rough carpet in the right pair of shoes leads to a static shock when you touch a doorknob. The negative charge sinks to the bottom.

As the cloud, full of electrical charges, passes over the earth, a positive charge builds up below it. Small little protons climb trees and telephone polls and even you, if you’re particular unlucky. 

Electromagnetism is the aspect of reality that gave rise to the phrase “opposites attract.” 

The negatively charged cloud, the positively charged ground...they want to connect. Each reaches out to the other, and when they meet, there’s a spark.

That’s lightning.

When it strikes, the air surrounding the bolt of plasma is superheated, becoming five times hotter than the surface of the sun. The air explodes in a shockwave that travels at the speed of sound – a bit under 800 mph in dry air. 

That’s thunder.

Percy’s confession, his revelation, the fact that he’d actually slept with Nico, was lightning.

And Jason thundered in response.

“You did what?!” He had never been louder, more hysterical, more violent, or less controlled. He didn’t notice standing up. He didn’t notice pulling Percy up by the shoulders, forcing him to stand with him. He didn’t notice manipulating the air around him to make that task easier. He didn’t notice the blast from his hands that pinned Percy against the wall.

He didn’t notice anything, including the desperate fear in the other demigod’s eyes.

“Jason! Let go of me!” Percy shouted.

Jason would forever be ashamed of himself for what happened next.

He raised his fist and punched Percy, right in the kisser.

Jason Grace was a demigod. When he wanted to be, he was capable of great things. In his short life, he’d slain monsters, toppled giants, and defeated titans.

Jason Grace was a demigod. When he wanted to be, he was capable of terrible things. In his short life, he’d broken at least two hearts and more than a couple of faces.

Jason Grace was a demigod. And he knew how to throw a punch.

So when he punched a completely defenseless Percy, it was only natural that he would inflict a significant amount of damage.

Percy’s head flew back and slammed into the wall. His body crumbled, getting caught on the headboard on his way down, and in an awkward tumbling of limbs and sickening cracks, he made his way to the floor next to Jason’s bed.

* * *

But Percy Jackson was also a demigod. He, too, had slain monsters, toppled giants, and defeated titans. He’d survived Tartarus. His nosebleed had kicked off an apocalypse, and a combination of his bravery, wits, and sheer refusal to just fucking die had ended it.

Percy Jackson was also a demigod. And he could take a punch.

So when Jason punched him, completely out of left field, he engaged in a dramatic collapse and fell to the floor – before standing back up and dusting himself off.

Even though he was now completely, utterly, fucking terrified of Jason Grace.

Every instinct screamed at him to run, to hide, to get out of that fucking apartment and take a nice long subway ride to that 7/11 in Washington Heights, to buy a pack of cigarettes and a forty from the cute teenage girl who worked there and never bothered questioning him despite his obvious youth, to go sit on the bench near the cemetery at 153rd street and drink and smoke until the pain faded –

And fuck that’s not where he was anymore. He’d already escaped that hell. This was a new one, forced on him by someone he’d trusted. Someone he knew he could love.

But he’d risen from hell before. And he could do it again.

And so, after getting himself up of the floor, he simply leveled his gaze at Jason, the man — _no, boy_ —  towering above him, and he asked in his calmest voice possible, “Are you going to let me speak, or do you want to beat me up some more?" 

* * *

Jason couldn’t breathe. He didn’t understand the world. The simplest parts of existing had escaped him.

Percy had slept with Nico.

Percy, who had just stood up off the ground, after Jason had punched his face in, had slept with Nico di Angelo, one of his best friends. One of his GAY best friends. One of his friends who was in love with Percy, just as Jason was.

And since when had that become a thing? 

If he was being honest with himself, he’d fallen in love with Percy the moment he’d laid eyes on him. He’d never admitted that, even to himself, because that had always seemed so fucking stupid. How do you love someone before they’ve even said hello?

In the movies, it was obviously just some plot advancement bullshit, and it was too clearly related to physical attraction.

And yes, Percy was fucking gorgeous and Jason had never shied away from admitting that he’d wanted to fuck the living shit out of him from day one.

But no, that wasn’t enough. He’d seen Percy. He’d seen those eyes. He’d seen a million lifetimes of happiness stretching out before and after this particular 100 years he _might_ be blessed to live with, and he’d known.

He’d found the one person made for him on this fucking earth. In this fucking lifetime. In his fucking soul.

And he’d just punched him in the face. 

Jason wanted to die. He wanted to crawl into a hole. A whole hole. And die. Completely. Utterly. He didn’t want a trace of himself left.

His shame was a waterfall, a thunderstorm, a hurricane. There was nothing left of Jason Grace, the man who had achieved so many great things. There was just Jason the boy, who had hurt someone he loved. There was just an evil piece of shit, a shadow, a dark spot.

There was just an emptiness.

He couldn’t begin to fill it.

But fuck it he could fucking try.

Jason leaped off the bed, grabbing Percy violently, clutching his shoulders, every ounce of will left to live inside of him vibrating down his arms and into the boy he held.

He shoved Percy onto the bed and _threw_ himself on top of him, smothered him with his entire body, trying to crawl inside him and let him know that he hadn’t meant it, that he felt the hardest, most intense kind of regret there was in the world.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” he screamed and he cried and he sobbed, pouring sincerity and hurt and depth into his moaning apology, dumping a river a sea an ocean of _meaning_ onto Percy’s shoulder.

Percy’s shoulder –– where his face was clenched, tight and wounded. Where his eyes dumped out their sins. Where he felt beautiful perfect bare skin against each blinking eyelid.

Where his tears became an oasis in the dry heat of a desert. 

“I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you so much.”

* * *

Percy Jackson had once been offered the gift of immortality. From the gods themselves. Although it seemed a fitting reward following his defeat of Kronos, he had turned it down, citing his love of Annabeth.

That was probably the biggest lie he’d ever told.

In truth, he’d turned it down because he didn’t know if he could survive immortality.

It seems such a strange concept ––  _surviving_  immortality. But, in the moment, Percy had remembered a tale he’d heard long ago, probably something Sally had read to him as a small child –– although looking back, it hardly seemed appropriate to share with a small child.

But then again, nothing from his childhood was appropriate.

 _Anyway, on with it_.

They’d been at the cottage in Montauk, a fire lit and the outside world safely shut away. Percy was being tucked into bed, a reminder of the time before the world had ended for him, before his trust in humanity had been broken.

“Imagine,” Sally had read, “that you’re standing on the shores of your own subconscious, a glass of wine in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other, staring up at the stars. You light the cigarette and take a small sip of the wine, suddenly feeling very small and alone. 

“What do you say to yourself in the face of that creeping darkness? How do you soothe the edges of your soul? 

“Who am I? You asked.”

The idea that someone else could answer, could _answer_ , had seemed so foreign to Percy. Even Sally, who had slept with a god and produced a child with him, had made it clear that the idea that someone might ever answer, might settle that creeping doubt, was absurd. 

Every time she’d read that bedtime story, she’d taken him out afterwards, to sit on the beach next to the small cottage. She’d laid out a blanket and asked him to sit under the stars with her for a minute, to commune with the universe. She would point out all the constellations and share every Greek myth she knew. And she knew _all_ of them.

After a while, she’d stand up, dust the sand off her shorts, and leave him there in just his underwhelming sleep clothes (pajamas at 5, boxers and a t-shirt at 9, boxer briefs at 12) to stare at the stars in wonder.

He’d never felt so exposed.

There were days, weeks, months, years after that – where he’d sit out under the stars and wonder.

 _How do I DO this_.

He’d wondered how he could exist –– such a large universe, so many possibilities, so many ways that everything could turn out.

More than once, he’d sat under the stars and decided

 _Fuck it_.

And he’d ditch whatever he was wearing at the time –– pajamas, boxers and a t-shirt, boxer briefs – and jump into the ocean naked as the day he was born.

When he was older, he would crawl back to the blanket after his nighttime swim, lay down, and furiously masturbate under the stars.

It became a crude rebellion against fate. He’d stroke himself, pleasure himself, until he saw stars himself.

He, too, could produce galaxies, given enough time, determination, and pornographic motivation.

He knew it was sick, but honestly he couldn’t give a shit.

He was the master of his fate, he was the captain of his soul.

And if he wanted to rub one out on a beach, under the patterns his ancestors had painted onto the night sky, he would.

_Gladly._

It was thanks to these memories – these feelings, these hopes, these dreams – these _wonders_ – that Percy was able to hold himself together.

Jason had just proven that he had the power to destroy him, but the sobbing, disgusting, mucusy mess before him was less than impressive.

* * *

Jason heard the smoothest, most melodic voice above him, pulling him from his tears and his angst and everything that hurt.

“Stop crying. I’m the one who’s been hurt.”

And he did. As if by magic, his tears stopped and he regained control over his body, letting go of the shoulder he’d been clinging to and returning it to its owner 

“You’re right. I’m so sorry. You mean everything to me, and I’m here to listen. Just as I’ve always been.”

Those words had come from somewhere deep within him, and although Jason didn’t entirely understand, didn’t really feel in control of what he was saying, he felt good about them.

They were the right thing to say. 

And Percy honored them, blessed them, by continuing to speak.

“Look. I don’t want to get too far into this, and I really need you to get off of me before I keep talking.”

And Jason rolled away, pushing himself off Percy’s shoulder, scrambling to the end of the bed, giving his friend – his love – space. Space to decide his words. 

Space to decide whether he would speak at all.

But speak, Percy did.

“The last time I drank, I slept with Nico. It was his birthday. We were both super drunk. And Annabeth had just dumped me. I was in his cabin, celebrating, telling him how proud I was of him, and he just fucking asked. He asked.”

“What did he ask?” Jason questioned, confused. 

Percy was destroyed, devastated, a complete mess, but he carried one. “He asked if I was ever really in love with Annabeth. And I told him the truth. No. I could never love her the way I could love a guy.”

Jason’s life was on fire –– everything he’d every thought he’d known was no longer true. Every future of him and Percy together suddenly seemed closer, and yet so far apart it hurt. 

“And then he kissed me, and then we fucked." 

And then everything was gone. Every future was crushed. He’d been there. Jason had been there. He’d seen Nico admit to Cupid his undying love for Percy Jackson, and he’d seen how upset he was.

He knew that Nico couldn’t have resisted Percy, couldn’t have said no given the chance.

And jealously and love for Nico and friendship and righteous fucking _anger_ ripped through him.

And he erupted.

“You just _fucked_ him, huh? After years of fucking ignoring him, you decided to just randomly fuck him?” Jason was nasty, every syllable dripping with hurt and anger and _poison_.

“Did you ever think about how he must’ve felt? Did you ever stop to consider that you might be ruining his once chance at love, with _Will_ , just to fuck him up the ass and feel better about yourself?:

Percy looked stunned, and, once again afraid. It wasn’t enough to make Jason stop.

“He _loves_ you Percy! How could you use him like that? How could you just shove it in him and decide you were done? How do you ever expect him to talk to you again?”

At that, Percy began to protest, flailing his hands wildly and begging Jason to stop: “Please, you don’t understand, it wasn’t like that – “ 

“Oh yeah? How was it like? Really tight and hard? You’re an asshole, Percy Jackson, and I’m sorry I ever knew you.”

Jason was _crushed_. Percy was into guys, but he’d slept with Nico. Percy was into guys, but he’d slept with someone who loved him. Percy was into guys, but had committed a foul act.

“And he was drunk!” Jason screamed. “Did you even ask for consent?” He was wild now, and failed to notice Percy’s eyes widening. “Did you think for a moment that he would sleep with you at the drop of a hat, that he would let you fuck him, let you ruin his possible relationship with Will just because he’d always needed you and you were never there?”

Percy was in anguish, tears streaming down his face, as he struggled to answer. “No it wasn’t like that, you don’t understand –“

“I understand enough,” Jason yelled. “I understand that you felt small and alone after she dumped you. I understand that you saw an easy target in Nico. I understand that you wanted to fuck a guy in order to understand yourself. What I don’t understand… _at all_ ….is why you didn’t come to me! Instead, you stole that poor boy’s –– he’s in love with you, by the way –– you stole his virginity before he could give it away to someone who _mattered_!”

And Jason had played his last card, his final moment. He approached the truth and surrendered to it, so that Percy would just _understand_ , that Jason was there for him, was willing be the person he needed.

Being there, at the end, on the last card, at the moment of truth, was no preparation for the horror, the terror, the sheer disbelief – _the hate_ – in Percy’s face. 

It was like everything had been sucked out of the room. They were in a bubble that had been drunk by a vacuum, and there was nothing left between them except hate and feeling and connection.

“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, Jason Grace,” Percy said, voice quiet, controlled, and venomous all at once. 

“You don’t know me. You don’t know Nico. You don’t know what I’ve been through or where I’m going. You. Know. _Nothing_ ,” and he spat the last word with such force that Jason felt it like a ping pong ball against his forehead.

“You _piece of shit_. You asked if he consented. You never even thought to ask if _I_ consented. I tell you the first two seconds of some fucking story about me and Nico and you never even asked how I felt _._  You decided for me.”

 _Percy was livid_. 

“You think I’m some monster. As if I could ever hurt another human being. As if I could have sex without asking consent. As if I _stole_ someone’s virginity!"

And now Percy's eyes were in the back of his head. He wasn't even really there. It was just pieces of his guts spilling out into the arena between them, the fighting grounds that Jason had – _inadvertently? stupidly? consciously?_  – chosen. "Virginity is a social construct you dumb fuck! It’s _not fucking real_ , and you _dare_ to blame me for taking _it_ from _him_.” 

Percy was leaning over Jason now, screaming into his face, pouring every ounce of hurt into his voice and throwing it across the short divide between them, a canyon of grief and hurt that was growing by the second.

“ _I was drunk and he never asked if I wanted it! He’s always wanted to fuck me and he saw his fucking chance!”_ Percy just fucking screamed.

“And I fucking let him! Because what else am I? Even you think it, you _fucking dick_. You think I’m a slut. You don’t love me. No one fucking loves me. Everyone just wants to fuck me. _Well fuck you_ ,” and Jason felt spit slam onto his face, as Percy completely lost control, his chest heaving and red and scarred, his heartbeat out of control, the pipes in Jason’s bathroom swelling with water and ready to explode.

“ _Nobody loves me!_ ” Percy shouted from his heart, from his soul, from the depth of his being. 

Everything exploded at once. Water, pumped through pipes to Jason’s shower and toilet, exploded. His shower, his toilet, his _bathroom_  exploded. The lake, a mile away from them, exploded.

Water water everywhere.

 _And not a drop to drink_.

Percy pulled every piece, every shard, every frozen atom of his element close to him, wrapping himself in a protective shield, flooding everything in sight.

When he screamed at Jason, everything in the vicinity – flooded into submission – screamed with him.

“ _Fuck you, Jason Grace. I thought I could trust you._ ”

And a whirlwind, a fury, a _wave_ of water carried him out of Jason’s cabin, to a place far far away.

And Percy, consumed by that fury, that water, that wave, struggled to remember.


	6. Nico di Angelo and the Zombification of Percy Jackson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We go back in time and get Nico's perspective on the time that he and Percy had sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I am still alive and writing this. Just hit some writers block and had to work on it a lot longer than I thought.
> 
> Okay, so this has a couple things to note:
> 
> 1) graphic depiction of sex.
> 
> 2) the sex in question is like. dub con. in a lot of ways. the issue of consent is brought up over and over, but we only get one perspective on it, and honestly the whole point of this sex scene is to read between the lines and see why Nico doesn't get why Percy is ever upset about it later. 
> 
> 3) I feel confident saying I am more familiar with the intimate details of sex between two cis men than some writers of slash fanfic on this site, but I am not at all confident in writing descriptions of said sex. Sorry in advance for any cringeworthy moments, and please feel free to let me know and I'm happy to go back and rewrite/improve on it.
> 
> 4) Also omg I realized I had a plot hole. I’d forgotten an entire arc of conversation Percy and Nico were supposed to have and had to add it back in almost a month after posting this...oops!!

Nico di Angelo woke up on the morning of his birthday with an odd flicker in his stomach that he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

It was the flicker of nervous butterflies, silent in flight but capable of traveling vast distances in search of warmth, a yearly hunt for an escape from winter and the promise of an eternal summer.

As his eyes opened, he identified the odd feeling, recognizing it for what it was, and he took a deep breath.

 _Today could be a good day_.

Always with the qualifiers, built after years of being let down and shunned and in fear of never being accepted for who he was.

Yesterday, Will had – smartly, in Nico’s opinion – decided to avoid surprising him and let him know he’d reached out to a number of people Nico had become acquainted with since the war and throw a party for him the next day.

Nico refused to call them friends, because acquaintances come and go but friends can always hurt you.

 _Yes I’m really that dramatic_.

So as he rolled out of bed and went about his morning routine, Nico was – with great trepidation – looking forward to the day ahead. It wasn’t until after he’d showered and gotten himself dressed that he noticed asmall pile of items sitting on top of his dresser.

The first was a small envelope, sealed by a wax stamp in the form of some kind of stick figure, a curved upward u shape between the line representing the body and the head, and a short vertical line somewhere where its legs should’ve been.

The symbol of Hades, his father.

Nico carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the piece of paper that had neatly been folded and stuffed inside.

 _My son_ , the letter began.

_I will start by wishing you a happy birthday. Although I am still occasionally confused by human customs and their insistence on marking off certain days as worthy of special recognition, today is a day for which I, too, find joy in celebration._

_1936 was not so long ago for us immortals, but much has happened in the 80-odd years that followed your birth. It is for this reason that I am able to look at such a small stretch of time and be disproportionately proud of my children’s accomplishments._

_You will find gifts of a material nature from both Persephone and Demeter. The former’s obsession with fashionable mortal clothing will serve you well, and the latter’s obsession with cereal will one day be her undoing._

_I offer you something different: words of caution and words of advice._

_I fell in love with your mother for many reasons. She was humorous, intelligent, and wise beyond both her years and her own mortality._

_I fell in love with Persephone because of her beauty, and it must be admitted that – at the start – my love was both obsessive and cruel. But, it must also be said that one does not marry a fellow immortal without considering the eternal implications._

_I have stayed joined to Persephone because, over the millennia, I have found in her the rich diversity of qualities I have always desired in a partner. I have found them in others along the way as well, but indiscretion within a godly marriage cannot be evaluated using a mortal rubric._

_One must always guard their heart._

_Happy birthday, Nico, and take care to do so._

* * *

Nico was slightly confused. The note was overly long and extremely cryptic, full of half the information he wanted and unclearly anything he needed. 

 _Guard your heart_. What the fuck did that mean? He’d been dancing around Will Solace for weeks now, doing exactly that – unwilling to dive head first into infatuation as he’d too easily done before. 

Will felt safe. He felt easy. He felt like someone who could be in his life forever. Nico was slightly concerned that their spark was a little dim, a bit lackluster in comparison to the immense intense insane burning he’d felt for years.

But, he was also older, more mature, and hopefully wiser. He knew that, sometimes, managing your feelings could be a lot like boiling water. You put water into a pot, filling it with a substance that is both steady and volatile – as a liquid it’s the picture of calm, but it’s able to change phases with enough heat or pressure and become an explosive gas.

The fastest way to boil a pot of water is to turn the burner up as high as it can go and put a lid on it. The lid traps the escaping water vapor and its heat, and the overall temperature of the liquid increases faster.

Of course, sometimes, the moment you notice the contents are boiling, you take the lid off, and the vapor and its heat escape in a rush, and the bubbling ceases, the boiling stops, the surface settles and the water is back in its liquid, steady state. It’s too hot to touch but the only thing it can do is burn you.

If you time it right, you can take the lid off, turn down the flame just a bit, and ensure the water comes off its boiling high but remains at a simmer. You can leave it there for however long it takes to cook whatever you’re making.

In love, you don’t necessarily want the first part – the explosion of passionate steam waiting to happen. You might want that steady simmer, the one who will last as long as you need and can provide something for you in a reliable manner.

This is the difference between fleeting but passionate young love and the love of a sustainable marriage, and while neither is necessarily better than the other, Nico was pretty confident that the latter was what he wanted more than the former.

He was, as Hades had described it, _guarding his heart_.

(It’s worth mentioning that the _smartest_ way to create a perfect simmer is to leave the lid off right from the start. It takes longer, but you bring the water to a boil, put in all your ingredients, and then bring the flame down a bit. You’ll get small but merry bubbles dancing across the surface, the peaks and valleys occurring as rapidly as moments of daily life, an apt metaphor for the thrill of engaging with another _human_ instead of an ideal invented in your head and projected outward. This is the difference between being a lonely teenaged demigod and a highly capable chef).

So Nico had no choice but to brush off his father’s advice, resolving to think about it later. It was his birthday, and Will had promised him a solid party later that evening.

Nico was nervous about that. He didn’t do well with too many other people in the room, but that was one of the many things he loved about Will Solace –– he knew Nico’s boundaries, and Nico trusted him enough to only bring together people he could trust himself with.

With that in mind, he tossed the letter from Hades aside, focusing on the packages underneath it.

From Demeter, his…relation…Nico received a note that said “Eat it,” attached to a box of cereal.

 _Predictable_.

The next gift was anything but. His…stepmother….had recently decided to acknowledge him as someone worth speaking to, but given their past relationship, nothing could’ve prepared Nico for the outfit he carefully unwrapped.

As he picked up the black skinny jeans with strategic holes at the knees, a note fell to the floor. He bent down to pick it up and read it.

 _Wear this tonight_.

That’s all it said.

The jeans were accompanied by a too long black v-neck and a beautifully distressed black cardigan that was probably going to reach Nico’s knees.

And sexy as fuck black combat boots.

Leave it to Persephone to make sure the blacks all matched each other.

 _She knows me too well_.

Nico set his gifts aside and went about the rest of his day with a small bounce in his step.

* * *

By the time the mini party rolled around, Nico had already had a great birthday. Hazel and Reyna had both called him from Camp Jupiter and said they were sorry they couldn’t be there, he’d had a nice picnic lunch with Will near the strawberry fields, and all in all Nico was feeling a bit more accepted by the demigods at Camp Half Blood. 

Jason had called him from what appeared to be a swamp, on some minor errand for a nymph that didn’t quite count as a quest. He was supposed to be back today, but it seemed like he wasn’t going to make it in time to celebrate with Nico. He promised to take Nico out to the city and buy him lunch as an apology, and while he reassured Jason that was entirely unnecessary, he was definitely looking forward to it.

Jason was genuinely nice, very friendly, and seemed invested in creating a real friendship with Nico.

Plus he was hot as fuck.

Nico wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship, and he’d spent enough time crushing on a straight guy to last the rest of his life, but he could appreciate the aesthetic marvel, the unprecedented incarnation of classical sex, that walked around and called himself Jason Grace. 

As he brought himself back to the present moment, he was pleased to note that all of his “friends” had shown up. Even the Stolls had contributed, adding vodka to the punch when Will was distracted.

Percy and Annabeth were stuck in conversation off to the side, whispering fiercely to each other. Nico sometimes wished his powers over the shadows included eavesdropping on darkened corners.

This became especially true when Percy suddenly whirled away from Annabeth, stalking over to the table of beverages, grabbing a bottle of dark brown liquor, and rushing out of the room into the night air.

Nico frowned, unsure if he should follow. Since he’d confessed his feelings, Percy had been trying hard to repair their friendship, making it a point to spend time with Nico each day in some mindless activity or another. They hadn’t talked all that much, mostly because Nico was still a bit embarrassed around the older demigod, but it had gone a long way toward making him feel less ashamed about who he was. 

Percy had tried so hard to cheer him up recently, so maybe he could return the favor? That said, he didn’t want to look like he was pouncing the moment he looked like he was on the outs with Annabeth…

Nico didn’t hear the sound of footsteps behind him, sidling up stealthily, but he did feel the arms that suddenly wrapped themselves around his waist, and he jumped at the voice that whispered in his ear.

“You should go to him, you know. He’d really appreciate it, I’m sure.” Nico turned in the arms holding him, meeting Will’s smiling eyes.

Everything was just so easy with him. He was so kind, so understanding, and sometimes it felt like he knew what Nico needed even more than he did himself.

“Thanks, Will. I think I’ll go after him. Just to check.”

“Of course, Nico. The party is probably going to wind down soon anyway.” He held a soft, special smile that was just for Nico, and sent him on his way.

* * *

When Nico finally found Percy, it was down in a secluded section of the lake, as far from the cabins as one could get. 

He studied the other demigod from behind, noting his hunched shoulders, the wince he made every time he took a drink from the bottle in his right hand.

Nico imagined the brooding face, which would every so often glance skyward, as if daring the universe to tell him off for getting drunk in the middle of the night beside a body of water.

He made no sound as he finished his approach, gently taking a seat by Percy’s side, bumping his shoulder gently to shake the other demigod out of his reverie.

Percy barely spared him a glance, returning to his bottle and taking another swig.

Nico tried another approach, mock glaring and making a grab for the bottle. “Hey! You stole that from _my_ party. Only fair if you share.”

He was granted a passing flicker of amusement as Percy regarded him carefully. Without a word, he raised his eyebrows but passed the bottle over, watching as Nico examined it carefully.

He brought it to his lips and took a tentative swallow.

 _Fuck that burns!_ He thought and started coughing. 

Percy laughed without any malice, reaching up an arm and gently rubbing Nico’s back, clearly already drunk enough to be far more touchy feely than usual.

“I should’ve warned you. First sip is always a bitch.”

“Well how many have you had?”

“Since Annabeth broke up with me? A million.” And then regret flashed over Percy’s face, clearly having revealed something he hadn’t meant to.

“Oh,” and Nico’s reply was small. His mind raced furiously. He’d imagined this moment before, and it wasn’t entirely unlike exactly what was playing out before him.

“Why did she break up with you?”

 _Stupid stupid stupid question_ , Nico realized, as hurt flashed across Percy’s face.

“I don’t fucking know. Go ask her.” Percy bit back.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” and then Percy sighed.

“No it’s okay, I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sorry. I don’t know why she broke up with me. Probably a million reasons. It was a couple weeks ago. Tonight was the first time we tried to spend together as friends. It didn’t go well.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I saw you arguing.”

“It’s okay, Nico. I’m sorry it happened at your party. I hope you’ve had fun today.” He sent a warm smile with his well wishes.

“It was great, Percy. I’m glad you came, even if it didn’t go that well in the end.” Nico was trying to comfort, but he really didn’t think he was all that great at it.

But Percy seemed content. “It’s okay. You know. When Annabeth first broke up with me, I thought it might actually be for the best.”

“Why would you think that?” Nico was bewildered, unsure of where this was going, despite the small bloom of _something_ building inside him, like a remembered dream about to announce itself as déjà vu. “Weren’t you in love with her?”

“I don’t know that I was in love with her, not the way I thought I was.” Percy paused and glanced over at him. “Look, Nico. There’s a lot of stuff about me that you don’t know, and I’m not really willing to spill my guts right now, if that’s okay?” Nico thought he seemed hesitant and unsure. 

“It’s fine, Percy.” 

Percy took a deep breath before making grab hands at the bottle. Nico handed it over, and Percy drained the last of it before tossing it off to the side. “I think I was trying to convince myself that I could love her. That I could love any girl. Didn’t work out so well, in the end.”

Nico felt his heart build a ladder, restricting his airway, as it tried to climb up and out of his throat. _Did this mean..._

More because he couldn’t speak than because he thought he shouldn’t, his mouth stayed shut, and Percy looked away before carrying on.

“But, anyway. Yeah. I was kinda thinking that maybe us breaking up was a good thing –– that maybe Annabeth dumping me meant I could stop chasing after a girl I thought I was supposed to love and instead embrace someone who had loved me, wanted me, from the moment he’d laid eyes on me.”

Nico blushed, heart racing as he came to the inevitable conclusion, as the remembered dream became reality. He didn’t know what to say, and it was instinct that spilled out, an instinct to be defensive, an entirely ego driven response. “I was 10 when I met you, Percy. I hardly… _wanted_ you…”

And Percy let out a short bark of laughter. “That’s not what I meant, Nico. I know you were too young for that kinda thing. I was too, obviously. But still…over the years…and once you told me how you felt, I couldn’t help but think that maybe I’d missed my chance.”

Nico looked at him, a familiar longing swelling in his heart, overwhelming the voice in the back of his mind that was saying over and over, commenting on the surreality, the persistence of a memory of love and lust and sheer fucking _want,_ that this was finally happening but couldn’t be real. “I don’t think you missed your chance, Percy.”

The son of Poseidon cocked his head to the side, and a mischievous smile played at his lips, danced in his eyes. “Oh? I still have a chance with you then? I thought I wasn’t your type.”

And Nico could suddenly see beneath the humor, beneath the jokes and cracks of wit, the vulnerability underneath. He suddenly understood that if he wanted this to go in the direction he’d always wanted it to that he needed to answer that vulnerability with confidence, reassurance, and praise.

He’d never really prepared himself for this moment, even though he’d dreamed of it for years.

The first time he’d met Percy, he’d been too young to understand what he was feeling, as he’d said. But it didn’t take long — the length of puberty — for his hero worship to transform itself into a full blown crush. 

Percy Jackson was the most beautiful thing on the planet. In the universe. Among every star and world and speck of dust in the night sky, his eyes shined the brightest, and his smile burned like fire.

It was in this crazed mindset that Nico replied: “You’ll always be my type, Percy Jackson.”

 _So much for guarding my heart_ , Nico thought as he threw the ball as hard as he could into someone, anyone else’s court.

With a single raised eyebrow, Percy tossed it back, “Prove it.”

And then Nico threw himself, and suddenly he was kissing Percy Jackson.

* * *

According to mortal scientists, courtesy of Wikipedia, “Fire is the rapid oxidation of a material in the exothermic chemical process of combustion, releasing heat, light, and various reaction products.”

According to Nico di Angelo, demigod, fire is the burning tingling rush of desire that flooded through him the moment his lips met Percy’s. 

He’d never felt so accomplished, so hot, so alive.

He’d never been this hard, this close to cumming from a simple touch.

He wanted to get closer, get naked, lose himself in Percy and never find his way out.

They kissed for seconds, but it felt like infinity.

When he pulled back, struggling to catch his breath despite knowing it had been stolen from him — likely permanently — he was met with an odd look in Percy’s eyes that he’d never seen before.

His pupils were blown out, wild incarnate, a wolf in the woods, begging to be tamed.

“Nico...” Percy’s voice was liquid sex. His hands tightened where they’d wrapped around Nico’s shoulders, tugging him in, his forehead resting against Nico’s own.

“Is this okay?” Percy breathed out. “I’m sorry if it was too much. We can stop any time you want. Whatever you need.”

And Nico gasped, his words trying to run ahead of his breath, “No! Don’t stop. Please!”

A perfectly pitched chuckled was the only response, and Nico met Percy’s eyes, pulling his head back, pushing the other boy away, and shoving the desperation and pleading into the space between them.

Then Nico _pounced_ , tackling the other demigod backward, flattening himself on top of him, relishing in the feeling of Percy’s legs spreading beneath him, his thighs sliding up Nico’s own.

He leaned his head down to kiss Percy again, slipping his tongue past perfectly formed lips to explore the other boy’s mouth.

Percy moaned, _so fucking responsive_ , and let Nico ravish him to his heart’s content. Nico slid his hands down the taut chest beneath him, reaching the hem of Percy’s shirt.

“Arms up beautiful,” he muttered, and, when Percy complied without hesitation, he tugged off the offending material, tossing it off into the distance, not particularly caring if it landed in the lake or not.

He soaked in Percy’s naked torso, wanting to memorize every inch. He was beautiful, all sun-kissed skin and taut muscle, splayed out beneath him like it was his for the taking. He finally brought his gaze back up to Percy’s face, smirking when he noticed how riled up the other boy was, letting out shaky breaths.

“Is this. Am I okay? Do you like it?”

 _Is Percy_ … _nervous?_ Nico didn’t really understand, so he just leaned in and kissed him again, pulling back to breathe against him.

“You’re perfect,” Nico tried to reassure. “Wanna fuck you so bad.”

He had to admit he was a bit surprised himself, but even in just that first 90 seconds of making out, he could feel the extent to which Percy was letting Nico take the lead, letting his body become pliant and soft and moldable wherever Nico pushed or touched, wherever his hands roamed.

As far as Nico could tell, Percy _wanted_ to be fucked, and who was he to deny him?

And so he was a bit confused when Percy stilled beneath him, and he pulled his head back to give the other demigod an appraising look.

Percy’s expression was, in a word, inscrutable. He didn’t meet Nico’s eyes for a few seconds, chewing on his bottom lip. Nico considered just how bitable it looked and resolved to find out sooner rather than later.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do, Nico? We don’t have to go that far…”

 _Oh come on. I’m the one who asked!_ Nico thought to himself, exasperated and wondering if Percy was ever going to think of himself as anything more than a little brother.

When he’d wandered out of his thoughts, it was because Percy had tightened his hold on Nico’s arms, and he noted the curious expression that had taken over Percy’s face. His head was cocked to the side, his eyebrows were furrowed slightly, and he seemed to be searching for some sign, some signal.

And Nico realized he must’ve said some of that thought process out loud. He hoped it wasn’t the bit about being Percy’s brother. That would make things a bit awkward, considering they were technically already cousins of a sort.

“You did ask, I guess,” Percy sighed. “I just didn’t know if we should go so far like this.”

“Like what? Don’t you want to? I mean you started this, not me.” Nico was beginning to feel anxious. What if Percy was only doing this out of some weird kind of pity? Or as rebound from Annabeth?

 _Or as an experiment_.

“What is it, Percy? Did you want to top or something? Would that be easier for you to adjust to the fact that I’m a guy?” Nico wasn’t trying to be cruel, he was just trying to suss out what the actual fuck was happening here.

He was guarding his heart.

Percy’s face went wild and Nico could feel his heartbeat rise rapidly at the pulse point pressed against his arms.

“No no! No! I didn’t mean that at all. Sorry Nico. I’m sorry no. I just meant…” Once again, his gaze slipped off to the side, unable to meet Nico’s. “I don’t know what I meant. If you want to do this now, I’m game. I really like you, Nico, and I want you to know how important you are to me. This isn’t a game to me, you don’t have to worry about that. I would never do that to you.”

And there was Percy’s lesser known talent rising to the top –– he had an uncanny knack for understanding the hidden motives of others, the meaning behind their words. Sometimes he even understood it better than the person speaking them.

That was the case now, as Nico felt a knot he hadn’t noticed unclenching inside his chest, as he began breathing again and _when did I start holding my breath?_

“Thank the gods, Percy. I thought you were leading me on. I’m sorry. I just…after thinking you were straight for so long, I never thought I’d get this chance and now I want to make the most of it. It’s been a long time coming, you know? I’ve loved you since I was ten, wanted you since the moment I understood what want was, and I think you’re the most perfect thing on the whole fucking planet.”

As Nico spoke, he began to punctuate his words with small kisses, leaving the first on Percy’s forehead, drifting down the side of his face, leaving one on the corner of his mouth, his throat, stopping at the top of his chest. When he finished, he looked up, and whispered, “I want to make you feel good, beautiful.”

The only reply he got was deep shuddering breaths and a lot of blinking, Percy looking as if he couldn’t believe this was finally happening and finally releasing his grip on Nico’s arms, letting them fall to his side to lay in the grass.

So Nico resumed his soft kisses down a predetermined path, this time adding his newly freed hands to the mix, letting them run up Percy’s thighs, ghosting over the hem of his jeans before finding the top button. He undid it and the rest slowly, pausing once the task was complete.

His head hovering directly above Percy’s still-covered dick, he whispered to the other boy, “Percy. Tell me you want this.” He meant it as a question.

“Nico…” Percy breathed in reply.

“Percy, tell me you want me to suck your dick.” He knew his eyes were dark with lust, and was a bit annoyed Percy was too focused on the sky to see them, so he scooted up to kiss those delicious lips once again.

Percy responded by bringing his hands up to tangle in Nico’s hair, pulling him closer and slipping his tongue into Nico’s mouth.

They were both panting for breath when Percy finally released him.

“You’re an incredible kisser, Nico. I’ve never been kissed like that in my life.”

“You should see what else I can do with my mouth.”

Percy rolled his eyes and chuckled softly. “Okay, if you insist. You may resume.” Nico could feel some remaining, inexplicable tension leaving the other boy’s body as he slid himself back down to his prize.

Percy was more of an active participant now, pushing his jeans down a bit and lifting his butt off the ground as Nico tugged them the rest of the way off before launching himself at the object of his desire.

“Eager, are we?”

“Fuck off,” Nico shot back, imagining that annoying smirking face he just _knew_ Percy was wearing.

He began to mouth at Percy’s boxer briefs, wanting to tease the other boy as much as possible. He focused on the heavy weight of Percy’s balls, pulling them into his mouth one at a time, enjoying the soft gasps and the twitching cock against his nose. He would get to that in a minute.

Nico moved up, licking across hemline from Percy’s navel to his right hipbone, nipping at it with his teeth before moving onto the left. He let his hands massage Percy’s balls, still leaving his cock alone, though he could see that his ministrations were beginning to have the desired effect, as a substantial tent began to form.

He moved to Percy’s inner thighs, pushing some of the fabric out of the way to leave a trail of wet hot kisses in its wake, making sure to give equal attention to both sides.

Nico checked one last time that Percy was fully hard, this time running his fingers along the thick, covered length pleased at the twitching and shivering he received in return.

As he pulled the boxer briefs down and off, gently working them around Percy’s hard cock, his mouth watered at the sight that greeted him.

Percy was pretty well endowed and _extremely_ well proportioned, a thick, straining cock sitting high and tight above a delicious set of balls, nestled in among dark curls that framed him beautifully.

Sensing it was the right thing to do, Nico met Percy’s gaze again, and sure enough there was a hint of uncertainty there.

“Percy, your cock is perfect. You’re beautiful.”

He got a small, pleased smile in return, accompanied by a high hum and a cute wiggle of hips, causing Percy’s cock to dance around enticingly in the moonlight.

Nico tightened his grip on Percy’s hips, stilling him, before running his hands up the other boy’s sides and leaning in, focusing all his attention on the dick in front of him.

He began with small, teasing licks to the head, enjoying the small twitches, before running his tongue down the length, this time taking both balls into his mouth as best he could.

He brought his hands back down to the business end of things, letting one circle around Percy’s cock, gently gripping it into place as he worked on his balls.

He could tell Percy was slowly becoming undone, so he decided to take mercy on the other demigod. Running his tongue back up to the head and taking as much of Percy’s cock into his mouth as he could. As he began sucking, he let his tongue run in circles around the head his hand tightening the grip on the base, pulling off for a moment to lick his thumb before resuming. Now he could rub small circles into the base of Percy’s cock, and if the shuddering shaking naked mess beneath him was any indication, Percy liked that move too.

He spent another ten seconds or so like that, bobbing up and down, trying to take more and more of Percy each time. Nico once again pulled off, but this time slowly and deliberately, wanting to coat his hands in spit so that he could focus on the head but still give Percy a proper hand job.

As Nico’s fingers explored Percy’s cock, he delighted in the moans from the boy below him. He knew Percy was getting close before he confirmed it.

“Nico…Nico…I’m gonna cum soon.”

Nico tore himself away from where he was sucking hard on the head of Percy’s cock to reply, “Go ahead sexy. Want you to cum in my mouth.”

And, moments after Nico resumed his work, cum Percy did. It felt and tasted like a salty explosion in Nico’s mouth, Percy’s cum hitting the back of his throat a few times before slowing down into weaker and weaker bursts, thick and heavy on Nico’s tongue.

He swallowed, utterly delighted by the taste and consistency and knowledge that _he_ had made Percy do that. _He_ had brought Percy that much pleasure.

Smug and satisfied, he met the other boy’s eyes, still glazed over and unfocused, riding out the last second or so of orgasm that follows a solid ejaculation.

He rolled to the side over Percy’s legs before crawling up his side, putting an arm over Percy’s chest and asking, “So how was that? Am I good or what?”

Percy laughed loudly in response, turning to Nico with a mirthful smile and quickly dashing in to press a quick kiss to Nico’s lips.

“That was amazing! I haven’t felt that good in a very long time. Thank you, Neeks.”

The return of a nickname he’d thought long lost was enough to send Nico into elation, euphoria, utter contentment with his place in the universe, and he once again threw himself at Percy, trying his best to pour every ounce of happiness he could feel into a breathtaking kiss.

He could tell he’d succeeded when Percy began to moan again, as Nico finally tried out biting his lips gently, quickly disengaging their kiss and moving down to Percy’s throat, sucking and biting, doing his best to mark Percy as his, at least for tonight.

When he’d finished, he pulled back to examine his work. Satisfied at the burgeoning redness, it was his turn to deliver a smirk in Percy’s direction.

“You’re mine now,” he growled, feeling the haziness of lust once again settle over his thoughts.

He ran his hand down Percy’s body, shifting his weight to give himself better access, drifting down his side, across the sharp hipbones, down past Percy’s waning erection, and under his balls, reaching for the tight heat that awaited him.

As his hands wandered, he asked Percy, “Do you still want me?”

He could feel Percy regarding him, though for some reason he decided not to meet his gaze, staring intently at the other boy’s bellybutton.

It was very well formed, just like the rest of him. 

“Ummm. Yeah. Sure. Do you…have like. Stuff?”

Nico blushed, fumbling into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out a small travel size bottle of lube. “Someone gave this to me earlier at the party. As a joke I guess.”

“You seem pretty intent on using it for a gag gift.”

“Yeah, well. When the shoe fits, right?” Nico could finally look at Percy again, despite reaching the height of his embarrassment.

Percy’s face was carefully blank, not giving anything away. A few long moments passed before he sighed. “Yeah okay. Let’s do it. Did this mysterious someone give you any condoms, too?”

If possible, Nico blushed even further at that. “Uh. No. But! Someone told me recently that demigods can’t get STDs so we don’t need one!”

Again, an inscrutable gaze. “Well I would still rather use one…” and Nico was suddenly crushed again. Was Percy really going to use this as an excuse? It was becoming increasingly clear that Percy really didn’t want him like this.

“But no it’s fine!!” Percy rushed to reassure the smaller boy, whose downright defeated expression, deflated posture, tugged on his heartstrings. 

“If Will says it’s okay, we don’t need to use one. Just, ya know. For the future…condoms are good.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “Yes dad, I promise to use condoms with all future sex partners.” 

Percy performed an actual facepalm. “Ugh, no. That’s not what I meant…you know what let’s just get on with it we can talk later.” 

“Wow you really know how to kill a boner, you know that, Percy?” Nico joked. He was still rock hard, let’s be honest.

But Percy went with the joke, surprising Nico by reaching down and grabbing the hand that wasn’t already near his entrance, bringing it up, gently separating out two of Nico’s fingers, before bringing them into his mouth and sucking on them.

Nico’s face went dark with want at the same time that his vision went white with hot desire. He let out a guttural moan, taking control of the movement of his fingers in and out of Percy’s wet warm mouth. He went on for a few seconds before pulling them back, telegraphing to Percy that he wanted him to let go.

Percy did, and Nico immediately switched his hands, bringing the wet fingers down close to Percy’s hole.

He was pleasantly surprised when Percy obediently lifted his legs up, giving Nico much better access than he would’ve had otherwise. 

He gently circled his fingers around Percy, rubbing the entrance in a teasing manner. He got up onto his knees, using one hand to push Percy’s legs back even farther, grabbing his ankles and pinning them together to do so and jacking the other demigod’s ass up and exposing him entirely. 

He grabbed the lube and squeezed some of it out over Percy’s hole one-handed, rubbing his middle finger into it obscenely, before slowly breaching him. 

As he worked his finger into Percy, he felt rather than heard the telltale stiffening in pleasure beneath him. Percy was rigid with lust and anticipation, utter desire radiating out from him.

Nico worked him slowly, wanting to stretch and prepare him, thrusting his finger in and out, going a little deeper every time. He squeezed out some more lube before adding a second figure, relishing the gasp the action elicited from Percy. He dug in and stretched and pushed, making way for his cock and preparing Percy for the best fucking he’d ever get in his life.

Occasionally he’d curl his fingers up, rubbing against Percy’s prostate and bringing out the biggest gasps yet, repeating the routine until he had Percy practically _mewling_ beneath him.

Then Nico looked down at this perfect person who was all splayed out, crying out, in lust in desire.

“Tell me you want it, Percy. Tell me you want me to fuck you.” No hesitation this time.

“Yes yes yes please fuck me, Ga- I, fuck, just godsdamnit it yes please fuck me.”

Nico was lost in desire, and responded the only way he knew how. He pulled his fingers out, noting the whimper from below, before letting go of Percy’s ankles, feeling the weight of his legs land on his shoulders. He struggled to take off his shirt, pushing away the resting weight for a moment as he did so. He then fumbled with his pants as they returned, bare skin against his own. He shimmied out of his skinny jeans and quickly tugged off his briefs, the cool night air granting some exciting relief to his already wet cock.

He lubed himself up, squirting out a generous amount, before grabbing Percy’s legs once again and positioning himself. He used one hand to guide his cock towards the waiting hole, gasping in pleasure as the sensitive head brushed against skin for the first time that night.

He pushed slowly, not wanting to hurt Percy too much, especially since this was his first time and he would be unused to the particular pain that accompanies getting fucked up the ass.

Despite myths to the contrary, no matter how frequently you do it, it always hurts at least a little.

As the head of his cock breached the surface, Nico gauged Percy for any reaction. He hissed, a sharp intake of breath, at the intrusion, and his eyes squeezed shut.

“Are you okay, sexy? You want more or you need a sec?” Nico asked, trying to be considerate despite all of his instincts telling him to push in all the way to the hilt, until his bush was tight against Percy’s ass and his balls created a rhythmic slapping that would fill up the night with the noise of their glorious sex.

 _Dramatic, but true enough_.

“Give me more, Neeks. Can’t wait. S’posed to burn a little.” Percy’s voice came in short gasps, and he actually reached his hands down to spread his cheeks apart farther, demonstrating his flexibility by rolling his hips up even further, giving Nico the best possible access and angle to shuffle forward and continue his push into that tight wet heat.

Nico obliged him, inch by inch, slowly but surely, until miraculously he was all the way inside. He quickly pulled out, reapplying lube, before doing it again, fully stretching Percy with a trial by fire, enjoying the way the hole began to open up before him, inch by inch, push by solid push.

He knew he wasn’t going to be able to last long, so he started up a very slow rhythm once he thought Percy could take it.

He glanced down at Percy’s face, visible despite his knees hovering at the edge of Nico’s vision. As his fucking became a solid rocking, his hands gripped Percy’s upper thighs tighter and tighter, pulling them up and adjusting the angle just slightly and –– finally –– Percy’s eyes flew open, an agonized moan cut through the night air, and lust flooding his gaze.

“Fuck, yes!” Percy practically screamed, and Nico knew he’d hit his prostate, grinning to himself as he managed to repeat the thrust, one time, two times, three times, until all he had was a moaning tangle of sex writhing beneath him, a steady begging chant of “more, harder, faster” accompanying his own gasps of pleasure.

Nico could feel his own orgasm building, so he struggled to reposition them so that he could use one hand to work Percy’s cock, hoping to bring him to another explosion of pleasure.

Maybe some dirty talk would push him over the edge?

“Come on baby. Want you to cum. I’m gonna cum inside you fill you up. You want that gorgeous? Want me to cum in you?” Nico tried.

“Yeah fuck yes. Do it, Nico. Fucking fill me up I know you want to,” Percy breathed.

“Wanted to since forever gorgeous. Wanted to fuck you so bad. Every time I saw you I imagined you on your knees in front of me, sucking me off. Never thought I’d get to fuck you until you came underneath me.”

Nico was working himself up, too much all at once, listening to Percy’s moaning and spitting out his own fantasies, and knew he only had another few seconds at the most. So he thrust hard and deep, fully buried in Percy’s perfect ass, releasing a cry as he shot a full load into the boy beneath him, someone how managing not to let up the steady stroking of the cock in his right hand.

Percy talked him through his orgasm because bless his fucking heart he was a saint. “Yeah baby that’s right. Cum inside me gorgeous, yeah you’re so hot like this, want you to do this to me again.”

As Nico came out of the all consuming trance of orgasm, he heard himself responding, “You want me to fill you up like this every day, you fucking slut. Cum for me baby,” and the next sound was a desperate, strangled yell, as Percy suddenly _erupted_ in his hand.

Nico’s first sight once the stars in his vision cleared was hot white ropes of cum shooting from Percy’s dick, coating his chest, covering his navel, before subsiding into oozing floods out of the exposed tip. Percy was practically crying, thrusting up into Nico’s hand, actually pulling himself off of Nico’s dick in the process, desperate for release.

 _A little dirty talk goes a long way, it seems_ , Nico thought to himself, once again smug as fuck at causing the great Percy Jackson to become so fucking undone.

He set Percy’s hips into the grass, letting the earth support the boy once again, before leaning down and licking up all the cum he could find.

As he licked and tasted and swallowed, he heard Percy’s low chuckle.

“You’re a surprising freak in bed, Neeks. I fucking love it.”

Nico ignored him until he swallowed the last drop, grinning wolfishly up at him. “Percy, we’re outside. You can’t even imagine what I’m like in a proper bed.”

Percy rolled his eyes for the millionth time that night. “Okay, Nico. Whatever you say. But how about we head to a bed now?”

Nico blinked. Percy had just cum twice. Surely he wasn’t suggesting?

“To _sleep_ , you fucking pervert. Which one of us is closest?” Percy hastened to add.

“That’s me. Although…” Nico stood up and brushed himself off, extending a hand to help Percy to his feet before raking his eyes over the expanse of exposed flesh before him.

Percy looked down self-consciously. “What?” His arms crossed and he looked defensive.

“We should probably get dressed first. Unless you want the whole camp to see my cum dripping out off your ass.”

Percy yelped, twisting his head around and moving a hand toward his backside, struggling to see if Nico was joking or not. Yeah it would all come out eventually but usually it took a few minutes!

When he heard the cackle of laughter, he whipped back to Nico, whose head was thrown back, his barking aimed toward the sky.

“Oh fuck you, di Angelo. This is war.” And then he leapt toward the other demigod, who shouted indignantly and danced away, before dashing off toward the Hades cabin.

Neither one of them cared that they were naked as the day they were born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi thanks for all the comments and kudos and support, y'all. I am fully committed to this one! Just stumbling through the dark a bit because the writing process is always...inspiration, long slow slog, inspiration, edit edit edit. 
> 
> Keep the comments coming y'all...


	7. The Morning After Sleeping With a Demigod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, all from Percy's perspective. 
> 
> Somewhat the central thesis of Percy's character, though more to be contextualized later on.
> 
> “What if a regressive trait lurked in ‘the good man’, likewise a danger, an enticement, a poison, a narcotic, so that the present lived at the expense of the future?” - Nietzsche

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major warnings for the below.
> 
> 1) Graphic depictions of childhood sexual assault, kept as light as possible but definitely meant to be constrained to the point I considered necessary to understand. 
> 
> Other stuff:
> 
> 1) Re-uploaded this in order to put in the full chapter.
> 
> 2) Did not realize I was going to go into this, but it felt right to keep talking from Percy's POV.
> 
> 3) I have a B.A. in political theory from an Ivy League university, and an M.A. from another one, but Percy Jackson does not. Please understand the philosophical interpretation to be loose at best, based on a smart character who has read it but maybe not studied it as extensively as necessary in order to understand it fully. 
> 
> 4) Thanks all for your comments and thoughts. Appreciate them, welcome your critiques, etc.

Percy doesn’t remember the first time someone fucked him. He just remembers the darkness, the smell of beer, and pain. 

He has since pieced together some details, largely based on guesswork. 

Gabe had come into his room, drunk out of his mind, and fucked him dry until he was bleeding and begging for death. 

That happened at least 5 times a week until the man was frozen into a statue by Sally Jackson. 

Nobody knew, anymore. Except Percy. 

* * *

When Luke comes to him in the middle of the night, in the first week of his stay in the Hermes cabin, Percy isn’t exactly  surprised.

He’d caught the looks earlier, caught the sense, caught the vibe. He knew when he was wanted, and he knew when someone was willing to act on that desire. 

One doesn’t grow up like Percy Jackson without knowing how to tell. 

When Luke fucks him, he moans loudly against the hand clamped over his mouth, he swallows tight against the hand clamped over his throat, and he clenches hard against the cock clamped deep inside him –– the easiest way to get a man to cum is to give him the tightest possible hole to fuck. 

He listens to the whispers in his ear, a welcome change from silent grunting, as Luke tells him how much he loves him, how beautiful he is, how perfect he is. Luke  reassures.  Luke  loves.  Luke makes Percy cum hands free, which is a  stunning fucking accomplishment.

And he can’t help but think to himself how easy it is to love someone who tells you he loves you. 

Luke is his everything.

And then Luke betrays him

But he’s let Luke fuck him so many times that he doesn’t know how to stop. Every time they see each other, even as enemies, they reintroduce themselves as lovers. Stolen moments aboard the Princess Andromeda, stolen kisses in every scene in between. 

Eventually, golden eyes burn away the cobalt blue. 

But all throughout –– through the betrayal, the redemption, and the transcendence –– Luke fucks him. 

And all throughout, Luke tells Percy how much he loves him.

* * *

With Nico, the problem isn’t so much the sex, although Percy really didn’t want to have sex with him. 

The problem is the morning after.

* * *

When he woke up, Percy knew exactly where he was, he knew exactly who was holding him from behind, and he knew exactly how he’d gotten here. 

He also knew how many drinks he’d had, and he knew that within about thirty seconds, he was going to feel hungover as fuck.

That’s why he didn’t drink that often. Oh, and the whole abusive, alcoholic stepfather thing.

Luckily, after running back to Nico’s cabin –– a short make out interlude in the dark included –– he’d been smart enough, prescient enough, to leave a glass of water sitting on the bedside table before cuddling up to the younger boy and falling asleep with a smile on his face.

Just one sip would do loads to kill the fucking headache, and despite the incredible warmth and happiness vibrating the very air around him, emanating from the arms of one fucking gorgeous demigod behind him, Percy immediately shuffled toward health.

As he sat up –– oops what a fucking mistake –– and all but lunged for the water, he briefly contemplated sending an anonymous blog post to Gwyneth Paltrow’s _Goop_ , highlighting the benefits that a single glass of water could have for the average demigod child of Poseidon.

He snorted to himself as he drank, focusing inward to direct the healing properties of H2O to where they were most needed.

The fact that some crazy anti-vaxxer peddling bullshit remedies for imaginary ailments was actually a daughter of Apollo was still the most amusing thing he’d ever learned since coming to Camp Half Blood all those years ago.

When he finished the glass, he turned back to the boy in bed with him. Nico di Angelo.

Nico was peacefully asleep, his fringe drooping, sweeping down to kiss long lashes, framed by buzzed sides, giving him a more mature look than Percy ever remembered him having.

Some people look younger when they sleep. The lines of their face, the anxiety and depression of making it from one day to the next, smooth out –– reminding the watcher that the tightness of stress can melt away with a catnap.

Nico looked older. Gone was the semi-permanent petulance, the anger with the world that belied his emotional immaturity.

Gone was the surety that he was the one person, one demigod, on this earth who had been wronged the most.

Perhaps it was Percy with the distorted perspective, and not Nico with the inverted fulfillment of expectation. After all, it was in “Awake Nico” that Percy Jackson saw a younger version of himself.

And suddenly he missed his mother.

He remembered rage and hatred and self righteous fury. He remembered feeling wronged.

He remembered, not because he’d forgotten, but because he had worked very hard to move past it.

Immanuel Kant, demigod son of Pallas Athena, once explained that the transcendent is that which humans, beings of pure reason, cannot hope to understand. It is the beyond, the further, the just out of touch. No matter how much you _know_ , you cannot _know_ that which is transcendent –– by definition.

His mortal contemporary, Hegel, argued that if one comprehends that which is beyond the boundary of one’s own knowledge then one must necessarily understand both the boundary and the things that lay beyond it.

To know that which one does not understand is to know it anyway, more or less.

Percy wasn’t sure, with respect to rape, whether or not one could ever truly transcend one’s experiences. Could you ever move into a headspace beyond your own experience? According to Kant –– no, not really.

That kinda sucked.

But, according to Hegel, being able to envision that beyond meant that he already understood it.

And that was just plain fucking stupid.

To be clear, Percy did not know if either Hegel or Kant had ever been raped, and he doubted that their philosophy was meant to be applied in this situation. It depends on whether “headspace beyond one’s own experience” counts as transcendent.

Given Descartes’ famous line, “ _Cogito ergo sum_ ,” it seemed unlikely to Percy, even as he recognized that applying such blunt tools to such nuanced questions was probably both pretentious and passé.

But he possessed a very bright mind, a thirst for knowledge, and a solid ADHD diagnosis that he could use to explain away his fascination with post-Enlightenment political philosophy.

Besides, if there was a publisher out there who needed a cover photo for a new edition of _A Critique of Pure Reason_ , Gabe Ugliano’s face would do quite nicely.

A small joke that privileged shock value and the hilarity of semantic/visual juxtaposition over making that much sense, but life is hard and humor is cheap.

And that’s why, in the five seconds that passed as Percy stared at Nico and let these thoughts rush through his head, he began to miss his mother.

His mother, who would’ve laughed at the dumb joke, who would’ve challenged all of his perspectives with incisive points and critical arguments of her own.

As a child, she’d read him Aquinas and Plato and Locke as often as she’d read him _Goodnight Moon_ , instilling the virtue of reason and critique, of Socratic method and rhetoric, of challenging the gods be damned status fucking quo, at an early age.

From day one, really.

Percy knew, of course, that people thought he was stupid. He was surrounded by demigods, beings born of beings beyond mortal comprehension.

How on earth could someone be the child of a god and not be super intelligent? Every demigod Percy had ever met was smarter than average. It was a well known fact, and many of the children of the gods lauded themselves on superior intelligence.

Except, of course, they were too stupid to realize that he was no exception.

Percy assumed it was their arrogance that blinded them –– they were all too ready to assume that they were the smartest, most capable person in the room.

This was the fundamental realization that drove Percy to rise above his pain.

All demigods are brought into the world to be thrust into pain.

Some are the result of infidelity –– either godly or mortal. Some are the result of divine rape. Some are the result of love, forever unbalanced.

But all demigods –– brought into the world by divinity, by power, and birthed to rule to conquer to build to create to exist, superior to mortal humans no matter their purpose and function or destiny and drive  –– discover pain. 

Given this…set of circumstances…Percy had realized that his pain was not unique. That realization did not diminish or delegitimize his feelings. It just gave him the momentary, needed, pause to look around and draw strength from others. 

He wasn’t alone. 

That was why, after Annabeth, he’d possessed the necessary tools to dive deep into the pools of self reflection to ask himself what he really wanted. It’s why he’d been able to envision a new future for himself, one in which he stopped living for someone else. 

He’d stopped living for his imagined future self, and embraced that, despite all the trials and tribulations life had thrown at him, he was in fact gay. 

He’d never been sure before. 

How does one distinguish one’s sexuality amid the onslaught and tirade and terror of being assaulted as a child?

But he knew –– he knew. 

He knew that he wanted to try something with Nico. Nico was a good person, someone who had been damaged like all demigods –– yes –– but someone who was also pure of heart. 

He knew that Nico’s love for him demonstrated this. It was a pure and innocent love, one built from childhood thoughts. 

Percy also knew that he’d played a part in that damage, and he was sure that –– given his own horrific life –– he might/possibly/could/also be a catalyst in the transcendence Nico needed, that which he was searching for himself. 

And so, when the chance came, not to redeem himself, but to serve as that spark that could ignite, illuminate, a whole new path to self discovery for a boy he admired and adored, he took it. 

But, as he looked upon the sleeping boy next to him, so peaceful in sleep but looking so much older and wiser and potentially more dangerous than he’d anticipated…

Percy wished he could talk to his mother. 


	8. I Believe You But My Tommy Gun Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shakespeare helps explain the tragedy that is Nico’s sex life –– specifically the one time he had sex with Percy fucking Jackson. 
> 
> Alternatively: Percy is a saint to a sinner.
> 
> Also: just so it's here off the top, and even though I'm loathe to explain a writing device that should've been imbedded naturally within the narrative (I mean, it should've gone without saying, but I've gotten some comments and now I'm paranoid about misinterpretation), Nico is *meant to be* an unreliable narrator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit on my tits. omg I’m SO SORRY.
> 
> Full disclosure: I’ve been unemployed for like almost a year now. I started writing because I’ve always had a million ideas floating around and finally had the time to do it (bc luckily I’m married to someone who makes a bit of money and could support me for a little while). 
> 
> But like that couldn’t last forever. Unfortunately, I am still unemployed, but being so for *so long* has placed an incredible strain on like every single fucking thing in my life. While writing has remained an escape, it’s become increasingly difficult to locate that *spark* that helps drive me through difficult chapters. 
> 
> IT’S TAKEN ME FOREVER TO UPDATE BECAUSE I’M A DEPRESSED MESS. 
> 
> If you’re reading this, thanks for sticking with me! I think this story will probably wrap up in another 15-25k words. I have maybe half of those written, but in a totally incoherent matter.
> 
> The chapters all need to connect to each other, and it’s been really challenging to do that because I have all the important moments written but I take great pride on not making a single sentence of my fics serve as *filler* between those moments.
> 
> So it’s going to take me some time to update the rest, but THIS IS MY BABY AND I WILL FINISH IT. 
> 
> Thanks again, and enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> *WARNINGS*: Again some like weird dub-con, and then an entire conversation in which one person doesn’t fucking get it. So if you’ve ever talked to a sex partner who didn’t understand why you were uncomfortable with a specific sex act/experience, this might be triggering. 
> 
> ALSO: I KNOW YOU ARE HERE FOR THE JERCY AND THIS IS ANOTHER PERCICO CHAPTER. 
> 
> IT’S IMPORTANT TO THE PLOT COME ON DON’T KILL ME. 
> 
> I promise you, endgame is Jercy and so much of that shit is gonna be soft and cute. I know because that’s the stuff I’ve already written. 
> 
> Also, I felt bad about making Nico a True Villain and needed to expand a tiny bit to make it a more equal misunderstanding, though I am not shying away from the fact that Nico did not respect Percy’s right to enthusiastic consent when they had sex. 
> 
> HANG ON PLEASE, and forgive me for abusing caps. I swear I’m not a Jim –– I’ve just had way too much wine. 
> 
> *** Last thing: title is 100% stolen from a song by a band called Brand New (even though the lead singer was caught up in the #MeToo movement for reprehensible behavior toward women, I love the music and this song in particular. I have thought deeply about how we interact with this kind of specifically tainted art in the dawn of our feminist era, and am happy to chat about that if you have an issue with the chapter title) ***

Nico woke up confused.

He was warm, he was naked, and he could smell the sea.

The first two bits made sense –– they were familiar. He’d spent the last few months hooking up with a son of Apollo, who was basically a sex machine with a heating function.

But the smell of the sea…that was usually confined to his dreams.

Sometimes, the line between dream and reality is an ambiguous, even treacherous, minefield. One to navigate with care. In the first moments of waking from a deep sleep, the lingering edges of a demigod’s hyper realistic dreamscape sometimes blur, bleed, into the fabric of reality.

But, for a child of Hades, the boundary between dreams and reality was usually sharper –– to die, to sleep, to sleep perchance to dream and all that.

Nico had walked through that undiscovered country before, as more than a mere traveller, and he’d returned whole and unharmed, protected by the master of that realm, one whom he called Father.

So Nico knew the difference between dreams and reality. More or less. And, as he breathed in the smell of the sea, he struggled to understand its source.

Then he remembered the night before, and his eyes flew open like a thousand natural shocks had descended upon his flesh.

And he saw warm, tanned, salted skin, felt it against his own –– an arm wrapped securely around his chest, under his armpit and wrapping around to his left shoulder, fingertips clutching his collarbone, holding him in loose possession. The other was tucked neatly into the space between his neck and the pillow, upon which his head was resting.

His back was pressed tight in a warm embrace against a muscled chest, coarse hair tickled his cheeks, and a flaccid cock rested against the lowest curve of his ass, a reminder that his bedfellow was taller than him, but not by much.

Nico studied Percy’s hand, the one splayed out against black silk sheets. It was rough and calloused, but beautiful in its imperfection.

An artist’s hand.

A swordsman’s hand.

A dangerous hand.

And then Nico remembered just how unsure, how uncertain, how hesitant, their sexual encounter had been.

Despite the roughness and passion, there remained a note of anxiety that covered the entire evening. He hadn’t been looking for it at the time, but the haze of alcohol and obsession had faded, to a certain extent, and now his memory of the prior evening’s events was sharp with the pungent smell of feeling unwanted.

And that’s why, within a moment upon waking up, Nico di Angelo rolled out of Percy Jackson’s arms.

The other reason, equally important, was _What would Will think_?

They weren’t exclusive. Will was still fucking one or possibly both of the Stoll brothers, and they were both aware that taking it slow was important for both of them. Will wasn’t sure if he wanted to be tied down and Nico wasn’t sure if he was really over Percy yet.

 _At least one of us was right_ , Nico thought.

So Nico knew that Will wouldn’t mind that he’d slept with someone else, that he’d used a set of skills honed in bed with a son of one of the most talented sexual entities ever –– the god of the sun, of poetry, of music, of everything related to sex in so many ways –– and he was reasonably sure that Will wouldn’t mind that he’d slept with Percy.

Perhaps he’d think that finally, Nico had accomplished a childhood dream. He’d gotten something out of his system, something that had been blocking their relationship from progressing.

In that moment, Nico thought of his father’s words in the note he’d received the day prior.

 _Guard your heart_.

Nico rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling, willing himself to figure his shit out before the son of Poseidon woke up.

—

Nico didn’t fall back asleep.

No, that would’ve been too easy.

Instead, he was subjected to the sights and sounds of Percy Jackson waking up.

There were soft sighs and gentle snorts, rolling movements and undulating waves of soft mattress transubstantiating between liquid and solid with each gentle movement of the weight next to him.

There was the soft glow of half-immortal skin, gradually revealing itself and glinting in the light of its own creation.

There was the arm that snaked its way around him, the firm but soft tug that reoriented his body, shifting him so that he was on his side, pulling him close against a warm chest.

There was a voice, warm and smooth, honey from the promised land, breathing against the nape of his neck.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” it whispered against him, lips somehow forming words and touching his skin all at once.

There was a hand, which slithered its way down his chest, lingering near his belly button, threading its way through the soft hair that trailed down from there, playfully arresting it’s momentum in the thick nest of curls directly above his dick.

A hand that took hold of said dick, which was slowly getting harder, waking up to the sun as surely as Nico’s brain had a few hours prior.

He didn’t interfere with that hand, letting himself get hard, allowing Percy to stroke him, basking in the increasing wetness as small drops of precum leaked out of him.

Percy stroked him evenly, never increasing his pace but gradually tightening his hold until Nico was trapped in a warm embrace –– one hand holding his chest and another gripping his dick.

Nico closed his eyes and indulged himself in the warm breaths painting his skin, turning his brain off until finally –– finally –– Percy’s firm hand brought him release.

He came with a gasp, rode out the high of his orgasm, and quickly twisted around, bringing himself face to face with his strange bedfellow.

And while he didn’t quite know what he expected to see, he was sure that watching Percy Jackson bring a load of cum to his lips, licking it from his palm and from in-between his fingers, swallowing it whole with a self-satisfied grin…well that wasn’t even on the list.

“You taste amazing, Nico,” Percy said, eyes suddenly coquettish, his mouth contorted into a cheshire grin.

“Why are you doing this?” Nico blurted, unable to control the rising tide of panic welling inside him.

Percy looked stunned, immediately. His eyes were engulfed in the fear of the known, the pain of the suffering. And, just as quickly, they passed into the panic of the offender. His next words were a jumbled mess, sprinting to a finish line they hadn’t known they needed to reach just a second before the gun went off. The hounds of hell were at their door.

“I’m sorry was that not okay fuck? I should’ve asked first, Nico, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable I just always enjoy jacking off in bed in the morning and I thought you would too and fuck, fuck, I’m really sorry it won’t happen again I usually remember to ask I just. Fuck. I’m really sorry.” Percy rambled at the speed of light, the speed of a junkie unable to contain himself, the speed of a guilty man who wanted to confess his sins –– not because he expected forgiveness but because he knew he deserved punishment.

Nico’s stare was the event horizon of a blackhole. No light escaped, and information was simply absorbed, to be radiated at a much later date, some time toward the end of the universe, when entropy revealed itself to be the governing law of all interactions between matter.

Percy looked puzzled, but he continued, understanding that his first guess had been incorrect. His sigh of relief was internal, heard unto himself, but his next words were equally apologetic. “Or did you mean eating your cum? Too weird? I…fuck. I just like it. You tasted good. But I can totally not do that in the future if you don’t like it!”

“What future?” Nico asked, equally puzzled.

Percy’s face then took on the confused expression of a child who’d wished upon a star, blown out their birthday candles, and been thoroughly shocked when the candles came back to life –– the face of someone who realized they’d possibly been tricked.

“I…don’t know. If we do this again?” Percy asked, not betraying hopefulness, but fully exposing his own confusion.

Nico, too, was extremely confused. What did Percy mean?

“Why would we do this again?” He asked, truly unsure.

Percy paused, and his expression became still as a Medusa stone, locked in the serenity of composure for the eternity of a few seconds before he spoke.

“Nico, did you not enjoy last night? I really wanted you to, and I’m sorry if I pushed too fast. It really wasn’t my intention, and I tried to check in with you as much as I possibly could. I just wanted to make you happy. I just…*want*…to make you happy.”

His face was flat, his tone was almost devoid of emotion. But nothing could prevent his eyes from sparking with the light of truth.

Nico tried not to collapse in on himself. Of course Percy wanted to make him happy.

It seemed that, no matter how hard they tried, they could never escape his guilt over the death of his sister. Nor the guilt of Nico’s unnoticed, unrequited crush.

He hadn’t known, hadn’t really expected, that Percy would try for absolution via sex. He’d expected frequent attempts at long conversation. He’d expected ten clumsy apologies. He’d expected contrition in ten thousand forms, ten million platforms, ten billion versions of saying “I’m sorry.”

He hadn’t expected a pity fuck. He’d dreamed of it, but he truly hadn’t expected it.

To be fair, Nico had dreamed of every kind of fuck he might get from Percy, from emotional to sexual and from vanilla to kinky. But the pity fuck dream hadn’t come until he’d had other options, other avenues through which to express and explore his homosexuality. He hadn’t dreamt of it until he’d understood it.

He hadn’t dreamt of it until he’d come to know Percy as a person, in the minutes and hours and days and weeks and months since he’d admitted his crush, demoted Percy from an idealistic dream, an idealized statue, a frozen being on a pedestal…into a full fledged human being who respected him as a person.

The minutes and hours and weeks and months that Percy had spent with him, listening for what seemed to be the first time, never judging him, never expecting much of him, only acting as a friend, a confidant, a fucking person.

But now that Nico knew how hard Percy had worked to become a true friend, the sudden guilt at allowing both of them to indulge in base, imperfect, overly sexualized behavior overwhelmed him immediately.

How could they have tried to use sex to fix this gulf between them? How could Nico have let them? Nico knew how, and he knew why.

There was something wrong and twisted inside him, something that begged for the darkness of shadow to cast the perfection of human love and intimacy into the umbra of a solar eclipse, to bask in the beauty of a natural but rare darkness, to expose a bright shining light that would burn out your retinas if you looked at it, even just for a minute or two.

The moments between waking up and this realization were like a tsunami: first an earthquake, somewhere offshore. Then a receding tide, a moment of calm and beauty, untold wonders exposed for the first time to hungry human eyes. Then a wave of destruction.

From the sea to the land.

The horrific realization of a miracle turned into a nightmare.

Nico tried to compose himself, but that wasn’t exactly a talent of his. It’s not easy for anyone to reframe an entire 12 hours of intimate companionship, framing several moments of admittedly optimal intimacy and fulfillment of long-held dreams into something resembling a reality that had only just been understood.

But Nico, full of self-doubt and with a mindset hard to explain without metaphorical reference to a desire to take a blue pill, was supremely unqualified even relative to the given context.

“Percy,” he started slowly, dragging his feet toward an inevitable end. “We probably shouldn’t have done that.” He tried to meet Percy’s eyes as he delivered the verdict, but how many foremen of how many juries had ever truly looked into the eyes of the person on trial as they rendered a man guilty?

Nico saw the flash of comprehension dawn on Percy, watched it spread across his face like the shockwave of a supernova decimating solar systems and clusters of habitable planets in its wake.

Percy spoke sometime in the middle of the wave, trying to ride it like the son of a sea god that he was. “Why not? I…” he stalled out in the middle, and Nico imagined a surfer bailing out of a wave that was rougher than expected.

“I thought we…” and that was just someone trying to paddle back, utterly defeated by his own element, so Nico took pity and began to explain, hoping that somehow he could help pull Percy toward the uncompromising, rocky shore. 

“Listen, Percy,” he started. “We didn’t have sex for the same reasons, or for the right reasons. I just…you know. I mean. You know. Me and Will…” and wow _I’d make a shitty lifeguard_ , Nico thought to himself as he trailed off, moments after he’d begun.

“Will? Will Solace? What about him? I’m…confused?” Percy betrayed very little emotion, but he managed to convey his bewilderment rather well.

Nico responded, trying to draw a point but mostly twisting his words around like a clown building a balloon animal, a dog that –– yeah everyone could see was a dog –– but was mostly interesting only to children who’d never held a real one they could call their own.

“I just. You know. Me and him, we’ve been, you know. Seeing each other.” And finally Nico managed the courage to meet Percy’s eyes.

He saw a million things pass across them in that moment, far too many to understand, even if he saved the memory to digest later.

“Fuck!!!! You and Will!? You’re together?” Percy shouted in alarm.

Before Nico could react, Percy continued. “I didn’t know!! I saw him with Travis Stoll like three days ago! I know you’d been talking but I thought you weren’t together yet. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!! I…” Percy paused, unable to breath.

Nico reached out a hand, tentatively, only for it to be swatted away before it reached its destination: Percy’s own hand, suspended in mid air on its way to a heavy and sudden facepalm.

“Nico,” Percy began, voice full of aggravated, stimulated, electric trepidation, “Did you cheat on Will with me?”

Guilt came, with the sudden force of a jet engine disintegrating over the Atlantic, unexpected but just as destructive. Trust Percy to be worried about that, even caught within a moment of awkward conversation about dreams deferred for years, only to be realized within a single night of explosive sex.

“No, Percy!” Nico almost shouted. “No, no. We aren’t…no I didn’t cheat on Will.” His voice grew smaller toward the end, and when he reached out to take Percy’s hand, the other boy accepted it this time, allowing him to lace their fingers together.

Nico met Percy’s gaze once again, sea green eyes full of receding, retreating storm clouds. _Cumulonimbus_ , Jason called them. Before he could speak, Percy broke the silence himself.

“Thank god. You really had me worried. I saw him making out with Travis last week and just assumed you guys decided not to date.” Percy seemed shy at the admission, which Nico subconsciously refused to understand.

Instead, he breathed deep, preparing himself. “No, Percy. We are dating, we’re just…you know. We aren’t exclusive yet. We’re still trying to figure it out. So, no, I didn’t cheat on him, but I think we have a real shot at a future together.” Nico exhaled slowly, closing his eyes, unable to do anything else in that moment.

Seconds of silence passed, an unwished-for quietus during which the currents turned awry, the name of action was lost, and a bare bodkin was delivered into the hands of one Percy Jackson.

—

The thing about Percy that everyone who really knew him could tell you –– a list of maybe like five people at this point in his life –– was that handing him a chance for evangelic crucifixion was like putting a moth in a dark, cave-like room, and then lighting a single candle.

Give the moth enough time to explore the limits of the dim and shadowy room, decide that there was only that one source of light, and circle the flame, and eventually the moth would singe its wings at least a little.

And, believe it or not, Percy dive-bombed into fire with far greater speed, and far greater precision, than any moth that had ever lived.

Percy would sacrifice anything to save his friends. That was his fatal flaw, told to him by Pallas Athena herself.

Alas, not even the Goddess of Wisdom had fully understood him. She knew that Percy would sacrifice himself to prevent a friend’s death. She knew that Percy would sacrifice the greater good, even the fate of the world, to prevent a friend’s death. She knew that Percy would risk a great deal more than he reasonably should to save his friends from their own fate.

What she’d failed to notice, however, is what Percy was willing to sacrifice for a reward far smaller than a friend’s life.

He’d sacrifice just about anything to see his friends smile, to see them happy.

And it was with this fatal flaw, front and center, that he followed through on one of the greatest acts of self-sabotage he’d ever committed in his entire life, falling into Tartarus with Annabeth Chase included.

—

Nico was apprehensive, waiting for Percy to look up from the bedspread between him, to tear his gaze from a focused attention on their joined hands, their intertwined fingers, that had lasted a solid five seconds.

Five seconds of silence can be extremely long if you’re unprepared for how they’d started and unsure of how they’ll end.

Finally, Percy looked up and started speaking. Everything about him, his voice, his tone, his eyes, his body language, conveyed peace and serenity, a oneness with himself that came from a certainty, an assuredness of one’s own actions, that was far beyond Nico’s comprehension. 

“Nico, I totally understand what you’re saying. I hope you know that I never wanted to get between you and Will, and I want to tell you how happy for –– no, how proud I am of you –– that you’ve found someone you think you can build a future with.” Nico felt, held onto the way in which, Percy gripped his hand tight through his little speech, and he drank in the other boy’s voice, which was floating in the truth of sincerity.

“That said,” Percy’s voice hardened a little, as did his eyes, and Nico suddenly felt a bit small under the weight of the demigod before him. “I just want to make sure I understand why we had sex last night. I want to hear your side of it.” Percy paused then, never breaking eye contact but taking a deep breath before he continued.

“Nico,” and Percy’s voice trapped him. He couldn’t move and could barely breath against the strength of will bearing down on him. He nodded, signaling to Percy that he was listening and urging him to go on. He needed to get to the end of this, no matter the consequence.

“Why did you sleep with me last night?” Percy finally asked, after a few moments of silence between his words.

Nico swallowed tightly. The unsurety, the uncertainty that had been building in him since he’d watched Percy swallow his cum was coming to a head.

There was the painful acknowledgment of getting something he’d wanted in a way he hadn’t meant.

The desire to maintain a friendship that had evolved from obsession into something more.

The gratefulness of receiving something he’d thought he deserved: the gratefulness for happiness.

The warning from his father: _guard your heart._

Nico was so fucked in his own head that he only dimly managed to admire the boy in front of him, to soak in the memory of a bare chest, of sheets gathered in a rumpled fashion around his waist, of a hard cock exploding in release as a result of his own determined work.

He breathed. He breathed again.

Finally, he steeled himself. He knew what he needed to do. He knew what he needed to say.

“Percy,” Nico started, “I slept with you because I wanted you for a very long time, and I finally saw my chance to have you. I slept with you because I watched you for years, because you never noticed me for years, because after everything we’ve been through, it just seemed right to finally do that.” Nico wasn’t done, but he paused so he could gauge Percy’s reaction.

––

He was usually so open, so easy to read, so expressive. But, of course, he was hardest to read when it was most necessary.

Seeing nothing, just a calm and open face with no flicker of emotion discernible within its depths, Nico continued.

“I understand that you wanted to make me happy, and I really appreciate that you did that for me. But I know that you and I are never going to work out like that. I know we aren’t going to be together forever. So, I don’t need your pity. I don’t need you to sleep with me because you think I can’t get anyone else. I think me and Will are going to work out great, eventually. So…I…I don’t want you to worry about me, anymore. But, thank you, for last night. It was amazing, and you made me happy. Mission accomplished?”

Nico’s vision had unfocused itself, his eyes unhooking themselves from his optic nerve for the duration of his speech, little dots replacing the clear field of light refracted off the surface of reality that he’d grown used to.

He came to only with his last two words, inserting a slightly jocular tone, a self-mockery only available to those who truly doubted themselves.

He wanted to make Percy smile, to joke with him a little, and so he debased himself just a tad, providing a runway that even a one-man flight control tower could use to give Percy an escape from the seriousness of this conversation.

And, to his relief, Percy did smile. It wasn’t as warm as he’d hoped, wasn’t as full as he’d seen in the past. And it wasn’t the quirky, jackass smirk that Percy had basically trademarked upon his arrival to Camp Half Blood all those years ago.

But he smiled, and then he spoke.

“Okay, Nico. I understand. I just want to say one or two things. I didn’t sleep with you because I pitied you. I just wanted to make you happy. Also, I didn’t know you and Will were dating, and I probably should’ve asked, so I’m sorry about that. I think you two are going to be great together, and I want to wish you the best of luck.”

 _There_.

There was the genuine Percy Jackson smile, a stretch of lips and slight baring of teeth that reached his eyes, which were alight with an internal grace unmatched by anyone but the gods themselves.

Nico smiled back. “Thanks, Percy. I’m glad you understand how I feel. Don’t be sorry about Will. He’s the one who told me to go after you when you left the party. I think he knew I needed to get you out of my system before we could fully commit, although I never really thought that was an option,” Nico ended the last bit with a teasing lilt in his voice, breaking out of his handhold with Percy and poking the other boy in the chest.

Percy laughed before shoving his hand away. “Well, I didn’t know you needed to get me out of your system, since you said I wasn’t your type!”

Nico flushed guiltily, before folding his arms into his sides, looking down and mumbling: “Well. You are very hot. And, apparently, you’re a great fuck.”

As the sound of his own words reached his ears, Nico snapped his head up in a flash and reached to grip Percy by the shoulders and almost shouting toward him “Wait! I mean. I. Yes, you’re a great fuck but like! I meant emotionally, too! I just needed to make sure I wasn’t still in love with you!”

Percy raised his eyebrows at that, but largely remained unfazed. “I’m glad that’s settled, then,” he replied.

Nico rolled his eyes. “Oh fuck off. Like you needed the ego boost. You might still be my type, physically, but I’m definitely not in love with you,” he said. “Besides, think of it this way, now we know we won’t ever be in a romantic relationship, and we can finally be friends!”

Percy chuckled. “Okay, Nico. Again, glad we’ve cleared that up. But listen, I should go. I think you need to go talk to Will and get him to agree to an exclusive relationship before he falls in love with Travis Stoll,” and he waggled his eyebrows a bit on the last part.

“Nah, I’m not too worried,” Nico said. “He’s totally in love with me, and he can’t get enough of me in bed. And now I’ve got a solid reminder that I could always do better to keep him in line, right?”

At that, Percy sighed a bit, suddenly looking a bit worn, and Nico couldn’t help but feel the smile he was met with next was mustered up from a place of ambiguity that he would never discern, never divine understanding from.

“Right, Nico. Go get him.”

—

And that’s exactly what he did.

After wishing Percy goodbye that morning, awkwardly giving him some clothes to wear for the trip back to his cabin –– and refusing to think that it was kinda hot that Percy wasn't wearing underwear underneath Nico's jeans –– he decided to walk around camp a bit, pausing at the lake, the strawberry fields, and even the edge of the ocean. He took of his shoes and socks and padded through the sand, stopping at the water’s edge, where the land met the sea.

He knew he’d made the right choice.

He’d guarded his heart.

Now it was time to take a risk.

So, later, in his cabin, after a glorious round of sex with the son of Apollo, he decided to go for it.

“I love you, Will,” he said. “Be my boyfriend?”

It wasn’t surprising when he said yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love y'all?
> 
> also, as always, going back and making tiny little edits: repetitive word choice, minor typos, etc. Sorry –– some people have beta readers but here we die like men. and update after posting!


	9. The Aftermath of Heartbreak and the Dawn of Stupidity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason tries, so hard. Really, he does. But. He can't. Because, at the end of the day, he's Jason Grace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with this!!! Here's the latest! I hope you like the little bits of expanded characterization and all that stuff. I had a dream the other day of the conversation between Jason and Annabeth and knew I had to include it, even though it wasn't in the plan at all. 
> 
> I think it really fits her arc, and I hope it's a nice surprise for any AB fans out there! 
> 
> More to come, I also dreamed of the next Jercy encounter, but it doesn't fit into this chapter at all. This one found it's own end.

As Percy shut the door to Nico’s cabin behind him, he resisted the urge to break down in tears. 

The urge was strong, pulling at his entire body from somewhere deep in his gut. 

After a moment, he lost all desire to resist, and he sank into himself, crouching into a ball and sobbing into his chest, arms wrapped around himself as if to force his entire being into a smaller space, one that took up less room, less air, a shape that simply existed…less.

Eventually, he collected himself and shuffled off to his cabin. The tears had stopped, for now, but the he knew the last 24 hours would stay with him for weeks. 

* * *

***Present (meaning right after Chapter 5)***

Jason sat amidst the remains of his flooded cabin. 

The bed upon which he sat floated gently over the violence of his destructive argument with Percy. Jason was dimly aware of the pocket of air he’d created underneath it, keeping it from sinking and soaking him in the consequences of his actions.

The inherent irony to the image he made –– a son of air and sky lost at sea within his own domain –– was not lost on Jason. 

Nor were the grievous mistakes he’d made about half an hour ago. 

Thalia had told him, during one of the few conversations they’d had about Beryl, that one of his mother’s favorite phrases was “Don’t assume anything about anyone, you’ll just make an ass out of you and me.” 

To Jason, this had always sounded like an alcoholic’s way of explaining that no, they were definitely a “functional alcoholic,” not one of those raving lunatics who sat on street corners and begged for money for food, only to be found spending their hard earned winnings at the liquor store down the block once the sun had set. 

While Jason had plenty of empathy for people who were denied basic rights to life under a capitalist system, and though he hardly scorned those who spent the few scraps of cash they could muster on an escape from reality via substance abuse, “don’t assume you know me” still sounded like just another way of hiding the truth. 

The problem wasn’t in making assumptions, per se. It was more nuanced, more complicated, and Jason had split it into two parts. 

1) You could make the wrong assumption. This was bad because it meant you were stupid. Making assumptions required good information, and one should only make them once they had gathered enough evidence to be fairly confident that their assumption was correct. 

2) You could make an assumption and then act on it incorrectly. This was bad because what was the point of making an assumption if you subsequently failed to make good decisions based on it? Your educated, evidence-based guesswork had led to, at best, nothing, or, at the worst, failure.

So, as he sat there, Jason pondered his assumptions about Percy Jackson. 

He had assumed that Percy, confident, clever, and clear-minded, had grown up in a fairly well-adjusted home. 

He had assumed that Percy, compassionate, warm, and quick with a compliment, had an optimistic view about human nature. 

He had assumed that Percy, straight and narrow, traditional in many ways, and in love with Annabeth Chase, had a distinct preference for women, and would only have sex with men for untoward reasons. 

He had assumed that Percy, zombie phase included, was suffering from a fairly standard form of PTSD, a condition borne by combat veterans and those who had seen the true horrors of war. 

(And he had to admit, he’d missed that last one, at first. He’d initially assumed his behavior could be explained by the breakup, then, after numerous conversations with the other demigod, he’d decided it was a combination of Annabeth leaving him to suffer the horrors of Tartarus alone and years of serving divine beings who cared very little for him).

Jason had to admit: he’d assumed wrong, and he’d certainly made an ass of himself. 

But, worse than that, he’d acted poorly on all those wrong assumptions, indulging in a thought pattern that wouldn’t have served him well even if he’d been right in all the cases he’d been wrong. 

Who punches a war veteran, likely suffering from PTSD, right in the face?

Who takes a nice, well-adjusted person, and crushes on them so hard that he could’t even acknowledge that the other person was a living, breathing person? 

Who takes an optimist and shoves his own pessimism down their throat until they suffocated from the weight of a misery not their own?

And, most importantly, what kind of idiot realizes that one assumption he had about someone else turned about to be wrong without reexamining every other assumption he held so close to his heart?

A Jason Grace kind of idiot.

* * *

Eventually, Jason shook himself from his thoughts and decided to compartmentalize. 

He couldn’t stay floating on his bed, basking in the light of his own stupidity forever, after all. 

Manipulating the air around him, he skimmed over the floodwaters separating his bed from the door to his cabin, which Percy had slammed shut and encased in ice during his rather dramatic exit from Jason’s room. 

Focusing carefully, he released tiny currents of electricity from his fingers, focusing the heat energy into small pockets of air that he gently blew toward the ice, trying to melt it without destroying the door. 

Once he’d succeeded, Jason opened the door and summoned a mighty wind, sending the waters up and out and toward the lake, far in the distance. 

He tried not to rain on any campers for the duration of the water’s trip, containing each molecule within a tight net of pressurized air, but he made no promises as he banished every last drop from his room. 

By the time he finished, he was already dreading the conversation he’d be forced to have with Leo about fixing the pipes.

* * *

As he walked toward Cabin 9, Jason once again found himself lost in thought. His six foot frame ambled amidst the brush, glancing the ruins, those things long-abandoned on the shoulders of a desolate highway. Tumbleweeds accompanied him, dry and dead with ugly twists and unfortunate ends. His triumphs, carried forward by a breeze that stank of failure.

He needed a drink, something to quench his thirst, something to remind him that he was alive and that, indeed, the only way forward was through. 

When he knocked on the door of the Hephaestus cabin, Leo answered and Jason drank.

He drank in the sight of his friend, the sight of someone who had met him on false premises but persevered, coming to know Jason as Jason was. Leo, who knew every part of him, more or less. 

“Sparky! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Leo’s voice was full of his usual mirth and charm, a regular Pippin in a house of stewards who didn’t deserve their titles. He was clearly on his way out of the cabin, and his answering Jason’s knock was purely a matter of luck. 

Jason, despondent, didn’t notice and didn’t answer. He simply flung himself forward, knocking Leo to the ground, forcing the air around him to cradle their fall without lessening his need for violent contact. As they settled, he nosed his way to the nape of his best friend’s neck, breathing in the clean scent of sweat and rust, of oil and fire. 

“I fucked up,” he muttered into brown skin. 

He’d fucked Leo once, theoretically on a dare but mostly because he’d wanted to. 

His best friend was such a nervous creature, someone who never knew when to shut the fuck up. 

Leo Valdez was the opposite of a Zombified Percy Jackson –– the result of too much caffeine, some combustible material, and some Chicano-esque quality mixed together in a lab and brought to life like Frankenstein’s monster. 

One night, too many drinks, a game among friends, and two amazingly satisfied demigods later, Jason knew he’d truly, finally, made a friend for life. He’d brought some peace and love to Leo, who suffered from the lowest self-esteem of any demigod, ever, and then left him with dark marks and a sore ass.

With a couple hours of long-dicking, Jason had cemented something beautiful between them that could never be tainted. 

Leo loved freely and without reservation. He loved Jason and Jason loved him. It was the easiest kind of sex either of them had ever had, and the laughter between them –– throughout the entirety of the event –– was enough evidence that they’d been on the same page. One night of sex to prove that the next ten thousand between them didn’t require more. 

When he’d woken up the next morning with a tiny imp, a larger than life best friend in his arms, Jason had thought to himself: _breaking up with my girlfriend could’ve gone worse._

“What did you do, babe?” Leo’s voice rumbled against blonde hair, his arms immediately rubbing soothing circles into his back. It was such a Leo quality to be completely unfazed when tackled to the ground, turning his attention and focus entirely to his unique brand of burning love. 

Jason sighed into him, an exhaust of humanity. “I hurt him, Leo. I hurt Percy.” 

He felt Leo’s hand slide up his back, and leaned into the fingers that were suddenly carding through his hair. He reveled in the touch until it stopped as quickly as it started, that wandering hand finding its home on the nape of its neck, and suddenly the grip was tight and unyielding, pulling him up. 

“You broke him how?” Leo growled, and Jason stared at his best friend in bemusement. 

“Defensive much? I thought you were on my side?” Jason smirked. 

“Not when it comes to one of the Seven, Jase. You know that,” and Leo wasn’t kidding around, somehow trapping him in his vice-like grip, as depths of meaning pooled in his eyes. 

“Not when it comes to him,” and Leo’s voice was steel. 

Jason was once again forced to encounter the unexplainable nature of the loyalty that Percy Jackson inspired in those he met. 

Chiron. A demigod he’d trained for an hour. A woman on the street to whom he nodded hello. For fuck’s sake, that woman’s dog. All of them would die for him, after they’d received a smile.

And then there were those with whom he’d saved the world, some of them twice. That was a whole new level of extreme devotion, one that Jason understood in one sense –– he felt it too –– but also one that he could never really rationalize from any kind of pseudo-objective point of view. 

And so instead of fighting, he sighed, easily breaking Leo’s hold on his neck so that he could slump back down against his friend’s warm chest instead. 

“Fair enough,” he started. “Percy told me he slept with Nico,” and Jason pushed through the gasp of warm breath against his cheek at that revelation, “and then I accused him of sexually assaulting Nico, and then he blew up and flooded my cabin before storming off.” 

Jason abruptly rolled to the side, seeking distance and awaiting judgement all at once. 

“Well. You weren’t kidding when you said you fucked up, ese.” Jason turned to meet Leo’s face, expecting anger and finding a bewildered kind of thoughtfulness. 

It was the same look Leo got when he was considering an advanced mechanical design, or a problem that needed solving. 

It was exactly the look Jason had hoped to see when he’d decided his first stop would be Cabin 9.

Both demigods sat up simultaneously, neither caring that they were still in the doorway, facing each other in one smooth and coordinated movement. The air snapped with the energy of two friends turning their mind toward the same goal.

“I know what you need to do, apart from apologize ten million times,” Leo started, already breathless over plans and schemes and ideas. 

Jason giggled, before raising a finger and interrupting his friend. “Okay great, but first…I’m kinda gonna need you to fix my pipes…”

The smack to his forehead was worth it.  
 

* * *

Later, after he left Leo, after he'd dealt with the easiest of recriminations, Jason knew that the next logical step would be dealing with one of the hardest. And Leo had thought the same. 

That’s why he sought out Annabeth. He didn’t know where to find her, so he went for Malcolm instead, knowing the younger son of Athena was never far from the training fields.

Sure enough, after a short walk, he spotted his target perched within viewing distance of the youngest campers, who were once again being guided in the art of the sword by Clarisse La Rue. 

Jason briefly wondered if Sun Tzu had been a demigod. It was easy to think that such wisdom came from a familial connection to the god of war himself, but he preferred to believe that the mortals had managed just fine, producing such an intellect all on their own, especially in Eastern cultures firmly outside the grip of the Grecian deities. 

This belief was reinforced by the text Malcolm was studying with one eye, the other trained on the arena. 

Jason sat down next to the younger boy, waiting for a break in the activity to launch his investigation. 

At the appropriate moment, he turned his gaze to Malcolm, pleased to note that the other was returning it readily, but somewhat off put by the knowledge sitting behind grey, unassuming, but piercing depths. 

Sure enough, his question was preempted. “Annabeth is currently sitting on the beach, likely just far enough from shore so as to enjoy the benefits of low tide,” Malcolm intoned, without preamble or provocation.

Jason had never quite gotten used to the pattern of speech that many children of Athena adopted. It was oddly formal, yet sharp and specific, somehow digging its way past bullshit and pretense. It annoyed him to no end. He’d always seen the benefit of polite speech, of soothing the edges of another’s insecurity instead of speaking the truth so abruptly. 

It had always led him to interactions like this. 

“Thanks, Malcolm. I’ll go find her there,” he ended up responding, with clipped tones and emotionless words. 

He got a nod in response, and then went on his way. 

* * *

Despite his reservations with children of Athena in general, Jason was glad to find Annabeth exactly where her half-brother had said she would be. 

As he walked toward her, he noticed just how straight and correct her posture was, her stiff spine so at odds with the gently rolling peace of the sea she stared at. 

If he’d been smarter, he would’ve realized that she was expecting him. Had he been smarter, perhaps he wouldn’t have sought her out at all. 

But Jason Grace was Jason Grace, and while his mission remained preventing a zombie apocalypse, his current objective had changed from quarantining patient zero and searching for a cure to preventing the mad scientist from developing the virus in the first place.

Jason was comfortable being the cause of problems –– it just meant that he knew what he needed to fix. 

And so he ambled up behind his latest target, choosing not to take a cue from his surroundings or to entertain a half-assed interpretation of the body language spoken by the young woman who stared at the sea. 

In this mindset, Jason sat down next to Annabeth, on her left side, shying away from the potential for violent justice, feeling hopeful that the scales might tip in his favor the closer he was to them. 

He couldn’t find it in himself to speak, so he took her in instead. He studied her. Curly blonde hair, a streak of grey nearly lost to the sands of growth and time, framing an almost too perfect face. Slender body, strong muscles hidden beneath a baggy white button up. The hint of a red lacy bra peeking over an unbuttoned top. Daisy duke shorts, triathlon worthy thighs and powerful calves and bare feet. 

So many layers and feelings and emotions and images, and yet the only thing he could look at were her eyes. Still so stormy gray, yet so much harder to place on a simple sliding scale than the last time he’d looked. 

Eyes that were now meeting his, and then he flinched.

“Jason,” Annabeth said without emotion, without feeling or tone, revealing nothing and somehow giving even less to the space between them. 

Jason inclined his head in return. “Annabeth.” He expected her to snort in derision, but instead she just stared. 

“What do you want?” Such a simple question, and yet the minefield that awaited his response was clear as day.

Clear as mud, perhaps.

“I made a mistake,” Jason started, and then the expected snort came. 

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Annabeth barked. “Trashing someone’s life and self-worth and calling them a rapist is a mistake?” No holds were barred in this encounter. 

The gloves were off, and Jason felt each blow against his hot cheeks. Once again, his temper warmed his blood, steam rose through him from his toes to his stomach to his ears to his mouth.

“Says that girl who dumped him for being too fucked up to handle, the girl who dumped him because she couldn’t handle a trip through Tartarus with the supposed love of her life, the girl who broke him because she didn’t like the side of him that revealed he was human after all.” 

Jason was vicious. Each word was coated in gasoline, his lips were the lighter that ignited them, and his sole intention was to burn and destroy and ravage. 

His efforts proved futile, and suddenly he realized that even a flamethrower couldn’t have broken the phalanx before him.

Annabeth simply raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow in response. “Is that your best, Jason?” 

And then he was on his feet, raging and seething, shouting down at her from his full height. “No you fucking bitch. What right do you have?! I’m the one who pulled him together after that. I’m the one who had to tell him he was still human? I’m the one who had to tell him he deserved someone who loved him no matter the darkness he had inside him? Who the fuck do you think you are, lecturing me? You’re the one who left him because you couldn’t handle the fucking truth!”

Another raised eyebrow, another tenths place to add to his exponential rage. 

Annabeth stared at him then, from her place at his feet, a thousand yards below him and seemingly small and pathetic. 

When she spoke, she did it without standing, but nonetheless her words put her on top, shrinking his ego like a balloon that was let go by a small child, left high in the stratosphere, wrinkled and weak and vulnerable to the pressure of its surroundings. 

“Wow, you really have mastered the art of feeling sorry for yourself, haven’t you, Jason?” 

It was a fucking knockout. An uppercut delivered in silky tones, passive aggression that slid through his defenses and rendered him useless. Jason didn’t quite fall to the ground, but he found himself stumbling back. 

In that moment, Annabeth chose to stand up. And then she continued. “You poor sad child. I didn’t break up with Percy because of Tartarus. If anything, I loved him more for what he did to Akhlys. He’s a strong and powerful demigod. A worthy partner who has proved himself, proved his love for me, more times than you’ll ever get to know or see or experience, at this rate.”

Her words were ice. Cold and calm and sure. “Jason, I almost pity you, because you can’t see beyond your own ends. You don’t deserve his love.”

At that, Jason sputtered, trying to defend himself, but he was so fucking shocked and hurt and confused that all Annabeth had to do was stride forward and put a finger over his lips. As she delivered the final part of her speech, the final blow, Jason stared crosseyed at that finger, the one holding him in and holding him together. 

“Jason, I didn’t break up with Percy for any of that. I broke up with him because he’s gay.” 

As Jason’s mind whirled, as his vision reeled, he barely even registered the violent shove of arms against his chest, or the foot that hooked around his ankles, sending him tumbling into the sand, where he was left to contemplate so many different aches and pains, all set to the rhythmic music of the sea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again! Love you all, and promise to update sooner rather than later!!


	10. Easy as 123

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A much needed conversation between Nico and Jason, and an acid trip that I fully endorse. 
> 
> Sorry, some dark Jason here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-uploading because I realized I needed a better end, and that this weird interlude made sense here instead of by itself.

Nico found him, because of course. It was some indeterminable amount of time later, and the sun was lower in the sky than the last time Jason had been aware enough to recognize the passage of time.

Jason was flat on his back, staring at the sky. The tide was coming in, and his left arm and leg were soaked from an increasingly vengeful series of waves that had chosen to encroach on his solitude.

He barely registered the arm that interrupted his view of the blue above, some five feet away and waving sharply.

But somehow, Jason heard his name as Nico called for him, and he found himself blinking at the other demigod’s face hovered over his own.

“Jason…what…? Why are you here?” Nico asked, clearly hesitant.

At that, he finally sat up, once again tuning into his body and his surroundings. He rubbed at the bruised spot on his ass, from where Annabeth had forced him on his back into the sand.

It hurt. But at that moment, pretty much everything hurt.

Jason sat up slowly, trying not to let the dizziness –– which was hovering just out of reach, waiting to claim him –– overwhelm him and embarrass him further.

He looked around, flitting past Nico’s stood form, his concerned gaze, and landing on the tall but slight frame of one Will Solace.

In the deepest darkest corners of his mind, Jason had always thought of Will as cheaper, knockoff version of himself. He thought of his half-brother, Apollo, in similar terms, but he was far more careful not to articulate that, even in the secret hiding spots he’d built for himself within the foggy, misty areas of his soul that were, to this day, a gift from Hera.

Who knew what the god of prophecy could see?

“Hi, Will,” Jason said abruptly, voice too loud and grating against the ears of anyone within a twenty foot radius. He continued nonetheless. “How are you today? I need to talk to Nico, so please fuck off.” Adding insult to injury, he waved in the son of Apollo’s direction fairly dismissively, simultaneously standing up in a fluid and graceful motion that screamed _don’t fuck with me, I’m a son of the Big Three_.

He didn’t bother checking to see if Will had complied with his request, focusing his attention on the son of Hades before him, noting the glare, the growing anger in his black eyes. But he simply took it in, face passive, waiting.

Eventually, he saw Nico look over his shoulders and jerk a nod.

Satisfied that Will had been given the required permission to kindly fuck off as he’d been asked, Jason contemplated his approach.

He needed information. He needed to know more. He needed to know how to fix what he’d so stupidly broken.

But Nico wasn’t an easy mark. His walls were nigh impenetrable, and his weaknesses were few. Going straight for the obvious fault line –– Percy himself –– might not yield the results he wanted.

Considering his options all the while, Jason nonetheless began to speak. “Nico. Funny running into you here. And with Will Solace hanging off your arm.” He delivered the opener neutrally, face impassive and tone giving nothing away.

Nico was a worthy opponent, perhaps the worthiest. “What’s funnier is seeing a son of Zeus passed out in front of the sea, looking like a child left behind at a supermarket.”

Jason tsked. “Nico…you should know better. I’m a son of Jupiter after all.”

He immediately saw that this was a misstep, however, as Nico simply smirked back. “Nitpicking over small details. Have you nothing else to say for yourself, Jason?”

His choices narrowed, Jason took a devil’s gambit, and chuckled lowly. “Oh I have plenty to say about why I’m here at the beach, and I’d be happy to share it with you. But, to be honest, I’m far more interested in your own extracurricular activities as of late, my dear Nico.”

At that Nico’s facade cracked, just a bit, and Jason knew he had him, and he pressed his advantage. He sidled up to his friend, hooking an arm around the younger demigod’s shoulders, spinning so that they both faced out, looking toward the sea.

“Look there, Nico,” and Jason pointed straight ahead. “Do you see that, the horizon?” He turned his and waited for Nico to meet his gaze, internally gleeful at the way the other swallowed the back of his throat, clearly nervous. “That’s where the sun meets the sea, my friend!” And Jason gazed outward once again.

“You have some experience in this matter don’t you? The sun and the sea? The son of the sea?”

At that, Nico wrenched himself out of Jason’s grip, and the surrounding temperature plummeted a solid ten degrees. Jason refused to shiver, and slowly turned toward Nico, trying to maintain his composure, the evenness of his expression, even as he subtly pushed out with his own inner strength, warming the air around him and reminding the other demigod that he wasn’t one who flinched at parlor tricks.

Nico didn’t seem to notice, rattled as he was, and he spit out his next remarks with alacrity, his words laced with venom: “What the fuck are you getting at, Grace? If you have something to say, fucking say it. I don’t have time for your stupid games, you little bitch.”

And Jason just laughed, tilting his head up toward his father’s domain for dramatic effect. “Oh Nico, my dear friend. Cousin.” He met Nico’s gaze squarely, and shifted his tone toward something more subdued but also darker. “You fucked Percy Jackson, and I want to know why. I want to know how. I want to know everything.”

Nico’s anger dissipated, and his fear aura winked out of existence. He swallowed multiple times, and he shrank from the impressive demigod, an uber powerful son of the Big Three, into the frightened boy he’d often been throughout his short life.

Jason wasn’t surprised when Nico refused to make eye contact. Nor was he surprised when the younger boy started speaking anyway, voice small and low.

“Yes, I slept with him. A few weeks ago. Not that you deserve to know why!” With that slight uptick in emotion, Nico finally raised his head and resumed his usual glare, but Jason was having none of it.

“Fuck off. Tell me everything. When was it?” His tone brooked no room for argument, and he was proud of himself when Nico cast his gaze downwards again, continuing in an even more subdued manner than before.

“It was at my birthday,” he mumbled into his chest. “We were both drunk, and you weren’t there, and he was fighting with Annabeth so I followed him out to the lake and we fucked there. We went back to my cabin and the next morning I told him we should just forget about it and move on.” Nico concluded his rambling with a sharp look up, and the small spark of defiance in his eyes just pissed Jason off.

But rather than indulge his anger, Jason went for a softer approach, taking a step toward Nico and cocking his head to the side, emulating curiosity. “Why would you want to forget about it, Nico? You’ve been in love with him for years?”

His ploy had the intended effect. Nico looked down again and kicked his foot against the sand a few times before speaking. “I finally realized I deserved someone who loved me back, not someone who was gonna fuck me out of a sense of obligation.”

And suddenly Jason understood. In a rush of insight, some usually inaccessible part of his brain, one that responded to intuition and gut feelings more than knowledge or logic, began walking him through the night. Percy was upset and drunk. Annabeth had just dumped him because she thought (possibly knew, but that wasn’t relevant) that he was gay. Nico came to him and offered support. Percy saw a chance to make a move on someone he knew had feelings for him, someone for whom he’d begun to develop feelings as well. He wanted someone to hold and kiss and love, and what he’d gotten was a fuckfest that had hurt both parties for different reasons.

Jason needed one more piece of information to confirm his understanding of that night’s events. “So, the next morning, did you talk?” This time Jason was utterly gentle, and as he asked his final question he crowded himself into Nico’s space that way he always did, the way that only he was allowed to do (before Will, apparently). He rested his hand on Nico’s shoulder, rubbing it affectionately and encouraging his friend to share the rest of the story.

Nico still seemed despondent, and his eyes remained fixed on his feet, but he reached up and gripped Jason’s free hand in his own. He breathed a few times, in and out, and twined their fingers together.

“Yeah we talked. I told him I didn’t need him to pity fuck me, and basically that I didn’t need or want him to feel responsible for my happiness anymore. Then he told me to go firm things up with Will, so I did.” At that, a small smile made it’s way to Nico’s face, and he looked up and, for the first time, met Jason’s eyes with the best of himself front and center. This was the Nico Jason had someday hoped to know. Content with himself and sure of his place.

But based on what he’d just heard, Jason knew that the path from the shy and scared and closeted Nico, the path from that boy to the almost-man before him now, was a path riddled with anger, shame, and fear.

And at least one corpse.

* * *

After letting Nico go, giving lip service to an apology for coming on so strongly, Jason wandered the shore of Camp Half Blood and tried to figure out what he was going to do next.

His discussion with Nico had yielded some much-needed clarity, given him some insight into the extent of his mistakes.

But his conversation with Annabeth had destroyed the last bit of confidence, the last kernel of surety, the last bit of everything that had anything at all to do with Jason knowing who the fuck Percy Jackson was.

_Who the fuck is Percy Jackson?_

He’d asked that question too many times.

First, when he’d met the other demigod. Neither one of them had fully appreciated the importance of their meeting then. They hadn’t understood the force, the mighty weight of their combined presence on the world around them. They hadn’t seen how reality flexed in time with their breaths, how the Fates themselves yearned to bend toward their unique and intoxicating will.

It was rare for multiple children of the Big Three to be in the same space, after all.

A million smaller moments followed that intense, yet glancing, first blow.

Learning how Percy fought: fiercely, wildly, with no regard for himself, all of his intention, down to the microscopic roots of it, focused on defending his friends and teammates, somehow embodying a devastating grace with unquestionable results.

Learning how Percy communicated: all at once, slipping from thought to thought, stringing together incoherencies into radical ideations, forcing himself and those he spoke to, inexorably, toward shocking and profound conclusions, to dizzying new heights and the promise of an unspoiled future yet to come.

Learning how Percy loved: wholly, with everything inside himself, holding nothing back and digging deeper and deeper to the bottom of his soul until, finally, he would carve out both a spot for you and a bright piece of light, handing it to you unceremoniously so that you might carry it forward and outshine any darkness.

After saving the world with him, Jason had been pretty sure that he knew Percy Jackson.

He understood the important bits, anyway. Fighting, talking, loving. Those are the fundamental behaviors of any human being, anywhere.

He’d watched Percy fall apart in the aftermath of the war, and he’d thought he understood. He’d put so much effort into being a good friend to him, into being there for him, that he hadn’t dedicated any mental energy toward understanding what the actual fuck was going on.

He’d made his little jokes to himself: _Percy is a zombie, must stop apocalypse_! But those were mostly tiny little mental games that Jason played with himself to keep his mind active.

It was the human part of his mind that played those games, and they rarely scratched the surface of his true depths, barely even dipped their toes into the substantial truth of Jason Grace.

He was a demigod, after all. A force of nature, a fundamental, indivisible thread stitched into the fabric that was reality itself. His life, the divine force of his being, supported, helped bind together, the very tapestry into which all of human history, human life, and the miraculous nature of sentient existence was woven so delicately together. He didn’t know exactly who held the needle, who did all the sewing, who ensured that the bindings never came undone. But he did know that for as long as he lived, he would frequently be one of the threads that this being used to do their work.

When his life-force wasn’t (subconsciously) occupied with contributing to the continuity of humanity’s present reality, it needed something to do with all that…shit.

During some of his deepest introspective sessions, Jason had decided that the gods, who were equipped with far vaster mental energies and depths of being than their demigod children, considered their constant disruptions of mortal’s lives to be a game equivalent to, or at least akin to, his own silly pastimes.

At the end of the day, Jason knew that nothing was so simple. But he’d slipped up, allowed himself to believe, even if just for a moment, that he truly understood another person.

He wanted to blame Hera for throwing him off his game, and there was a certain amount of truth to that. But Jason was a perfectionist at heart, and the human side of him gnawed apart each and every excuse that he tried to make. At the same time, the spark of divinity that ignited his soul, that lit his path along the twisted branches of fate, refused to submit to another’s will, even if that other was a full goddess.

And so there Jason was, blaming himself once again.

He decided to try something he hadn’t thought of in years, something that Lupa had mentioned to him once in a private conversation away from her other cubs, a small piece of advice that nonetheless lodged itself into the deepest recesses of his very young mind. She said it was a tool that he, as a child of Jupiter, could call on whenever he wanted. But she also warned that it was a tool that became sharper the less it was used. 

It wasn’t such a grand thing. Jason simply sat on the ground. He felt the earth beneath him, the breeze around him, the water to his left, the sun fading off in the West, and the sky wheeling overhead, just about ready to reveal the bright light of distant suns.

He breathed in. He breathed out.

And then, Jason Grace meditated.

* * *

As he breathed in and out, Jason extended his consciousness beyond his own mortal body. He reached up and out, touching sand and stone, water and air, light and energy.

He also pushed his consciousness inward, searching for what Lupa had called his soul.

Although Jason had never tried this particular exercise before, it came as naturally to him as all of his other gifts.

He quickly became one with his surroundings, and though he swam for a time through darkness, a light did emerge, somewhere deep within himself.

He saw it as a gleaming doorway, carved into an inky, formless wall. He was unafraid, and stepped through it without hesitation.

Light bloomed in front of him, and for a timeless moment, he felt the earth rotating beneath him. He saw the revolution of his home planet, and he felt the tug of the Sun and Jupiter, of distant stars and black holes, their gravity a force that pulled him closer to his own center, just as he tugged them toward himself.

He was surprised that the force of their gravity and the force of his will were more similar than not. He’d been slightly concerned about being overwhelmed, about losing himself to the dynamic and intricate dance that kept the tides changing, kept the moon in the sky, kept the earth turning and the sun rising.

But no, no. He was as much a part of the dance as they were.

At that moment, as Jason let go of the last of his reservations, he grasped a wisdom so profound that tears came unbidden, trailing down his cheeks in fierce streams. He saw all that he could’ve been, all that he is, and all that he could and would someday become.

He saw the resolution to every conflict within himself, between himself and others, and the inexplicable importance and irrelevance of his own existence within the full span of the entire cosmos.

A moment, a year, a lifetime later, Jason began to gather himself back together, picking up the disparate futures and misunderstood pasts and arranging them all into a coherent present.

He didn’t realize it at the time, but he left most of that wisdom scattered along the path he’d begun walking back to himself, leaving them behind in droplets that, had he glanced back, would’ve shone like stars.

He didn’t glance back.

* * *

When Jason Grace opened his eyes, whole once again, he missed the oneness, and he immediately understood why his connection to it would remain brief and infrequent.

It would’ve have been so easy to lose himself among the stars, among the forces greater than himself, wielded by the gods but never fully owned.

There was a freedom there, and Jason knew that he would seek it out in times of trouble. He knew that one day he would die, and he hoped that he would be given the choice to join them instead of facing the choices that Hades gave most mortals.

But bliss faded quickly against the harshness of a life that didn't always ring with the music of the stars, that didn't always vibrate in tune with the freewheeling energy of a greater song.

So, when Jason Grace opened his eyes, he was in a position only marginally better than he’d been before he’d hitched a ride to Woodstock and tripped on the proverbial cosmic acid.

He felt better about some things, like how to approach Percy, and he felt worse about others, like his lunatic rant to Annabeth and his relentless manipulation of Nico.

He decided his first order of business was to get some sleep.

He hoped to dream of the stars.


End file.
